The Games of Blood and Heartache
by iloverueforever
Summary: The games are here again taking the lives of 23 innocent children. In this living nightmare, only one will emerge.
1. District 1 reapings

**Hey guys, here is District one's reaping. Please review!Thank you, we love you all! **

**-iloverueforever and connorxrisa897**

Well now, don't you look pretty?" my brother Beta remarks sarcastically, the harsh masculine laughter from my older brothers ringing through the kitchen.

"Shut up," I say, smacking him with a dishtowel. "I think my dress is gorgeous. Besides, the Capitol likes fashion, right? And I saw a lot of red on the tributes last year."

"Ha ha, that's funny!" my brother Ogden snorts. "Red, like blood. Ha ha. Get it?"

"That's not what I meant, stupid," I reply, whipping the towel through the air to hit him too. Who are they to judge my taste in clothes? My dress, custom sewn by my mother, is my gift to the square where the reapings are held. Asymmetrical bodice, long train, bright and shiny red. I look like I'm from the Capitol. Except, I don't have any weird tattoos, or freaky bleached eyebrows or anything. That would just be weird. Weird, and not very cute.

I'm annoyed by the reapings, since people are always sweating and crying and stuff, and it wastes a perfectly good few hours of my life that could have been easily spent doing my hair, or hanging with one of my boyfriends, or finding another one. SUCH a waste of my valuable time. I walk into the front hall of my house, being careful to step with my feet flat, as to not trip on my heels. Turns out, scrunching up your toes only makes you fall over. I learned that the hard way.

Staring at myself in the wide mirror of the decorative armoire, I am momentarily distracted by the shininess of my dress's fabric. Pretty….. I snap out of it, strike what I think might be a warrior pose, and say, perhaps a bit louder than I meant to,

"I present to you, Platinum Fowley, winner of the 36th annual hunger games!"

Suddenly, my mom comes up behind me, and sweeps my long, dark hair to the side.

"Platinum!" she scolds. "You shouldn't fantasize about killing innocent children! Augh, as if those dreadful boyfriends of yours haven't influenced you enough, now you want to kill people?"

"No, mommy," I say, swirling around, looking down to meet her eyes. In my shoes, I'm about half a foot taller than she is. "Killing is bad, the Hunger Games are cruel, and my best hope is to live a safe and uneventful life in the district. I know, I know."

She leaves then, shaking her head in disappointment. Why, I don't know. I mean, I told her what she always tells me, right?

About a half hour later, I am gathered with the other seventeen-year-olds, roped off from the adults, constantly being shoved aside to make room for people and their friends.

"Watch it!" I shriek, as a skinny, pimply boy elbows me in the ribs.

He doesn't even apologize. The nerve. Just then, District 1's escort, an only sort-of attractive woman by the name of Ariana steps up to the microphone on the steps of our Justice Building. She taps it a few times to make sure it is working, and announces in a thick Capitol accent,

"Welcome everyone, to the, uh, thirty-sixth annual reapings of the Hunger Games! I'm District 1's very lucky escort, Ariana Pavao! Be lucky and win, people! Now, we turn this over to the mayor, Mr… um, the mayor, for the reading of the Treaty of Treason! Yay!"

Our mayor, Augustus Pliskin, this really old guy who kinda freaks me out, pulls a scroll of paper out of his maroon coat pocket, and begins to read the familiar treaty in his deep, droning voice. I seriously almost fall asleep in the first minute. After what seems like forever, Ariana shoves him gently out of the way, saying, "Thanks, old man. Now, it's time to draw the names. As we always do, let's start with the girls!"

Ariana strides confidently over to the huge glass bowl containing the girl's names, flipping her layered blonde hair, and winking at the crowd of boys. She dips her hand into the bowl, immediately fishes out the first one she feels, and reads loudly,

"Platinum Fowley."

Huh. Wasn't quite expecting that one. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, I mean, I was in six times because of my age, and almost no one in the district ever takes out any tesserae. I push my way through the crowd, and stride up to the stage. I face the people of my district, feeling their joy that their own children were spared. Whatever. My brothers are all nudging each other and whispering, and my father is comforting my sobbing mother.

"You're Platinum?" Ariana asks me, her breath smelling of synthetic mint.

"Yeah," I say into the microphone.

"Okay, you lovely girl, time to pick your companion! Now, for the boys!"

I look into the audience, looking for any other concern. There isn't any that I can see. Not that I need their sympathy, of course. I'm really confident. I'm good at talking to people, I'm strong, I'm even pretty. I have got this in the bag, I think, smiling. Look out Panem, here comes Platinum Fowley.

Kern's POV

I eye the toast sitting on my plate, thinking back to the day it cost me the normalcy of my upper lip.

"Morning," My little sister Delphi chirps. I mumble a response and quickly get up. I twist the door knob and step out of my house. The sun peers over the horizon, awakening me more and more. I head to my friend Vibia's house, hoping to talk to her about the reaping. I've had my eyes on the mentor this years and it's no secret.

"Hey" Vibia says as I step into her room.

"Ugh, what smells so bad?" I grumble. She lives in a pigsty always throwing her trash in to any open spot.

"Stop grumbling, today we unite!" She says sarcastically.

"Stop," I say. I put my hand in her face.

"I won't get picked the odds are absolutely in my favor, but you on the other hand….." I trail off, not sure how to put it. I think for a minute trying to get used to the words.

"Have your name in 25 times" I finish.

"I know, I know, the odds are not entirely in my favor." She replies. My name is only in 9 times because I'm the mayor's son but still, my father wants extra food. I sigh, no longer knowing what to say. I reach into my pocket and pull out my "stress rope", the thing I use when I get fidgety. Vibia and Silver like to remind me that I have it in my hands all the time.

I tie and untie knots on the way home, not daring to look in to other people's piercing eyes. I dare to look up, and catch site of a young boy wrapped in a rag. I quickly yank of my jacket and offer it to the boy. He smiles up at me as I turn and go back home.

My older sister Theta straightens my tie while I button my light blue dress shirt. My khaki pants will stand out in the crowd, but I don't mind. I quickly slip in to my dark brown shoes as I walk down the stairs with my older brothers Baron and Cordo. My little siblings trail behind us as we kiss our parents goodbye and walk toward the square.

I run my hand through my dark shaggy hair letting it fall in to place. My sisters kiss me on the cheek and walk to their designated, roped off area. I sign in and walk with my brother Cordo to the 17 year old area. He walks to the 18 year old section and mouths "good luck". I grin at him.

"Blah, blah, blah," says the escort, boring me to death. I resist the urge to pull out my "stress rope."

"Kernel" A boy in my section shoves me in the ribs.

"What?" I snap. He motions toward the stage as the escort Ariana calls again,

"Kernel Rankline. Would you please come here?" I walk straight to the stage and quickly walk up the stairs. I don't notice what's happened until I catch site of the, uhh my mentor winking at me. I was chosen, I'm in the games. And she's pretty cute.


	2. District 2 reapings

Hey guys, here is District 2's reaping. Enjoy, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

Aiden's POV

I can see everything, even the little droplet of sweat falling down Rit's forehead. I swipe at her with my fist, but instead I get a mouthful of her red hair in my mouth. I yelp, distracted. That's just what she needs, she pulls her pudgy arm back and then brings it forward against my eye.

"You IDIOT!" I yell at her. I scramble towards her and am rewarded when I hear the clunking sound my foot makes against her abdomen. Her hairs whips around as she turns to look at me, her deep black eyes piercing. She scrambles up, bringing her hands to her face. I snort.

"That's all you got?" I yell. She glares at me.

"Girls!" I hear a shriek coming from my left. Both Rit and I groan. "Inside, now… all of you" the principal says, then her gaze softens, "Time for the drawing," she adds. She leads us to the geography classroom and sits us down. My teacher pulls the tiny slip of paper out of the bowl.

"Aiden Motivia, you will volunteer this year."

"Whatever," I say hardly caring. My enemy Rit looks over at me and I glare at her. The bell rings and I quickly and abruptly head out the door.

"Aiden, wait" I hear someone call. I stop- but I don't turn around. Her black eyes meet mine as she swivels me around.

"I'm sorry" she whispers. She turns then, and walks away. I snort. I glance down at my left hand, just slightly remembering the fight that ended the chances of my left hand having five fingers again. I pull my dark hair in to a ponytail, making my way home while only occasionally stopping to yell obscenities at people. Today was an early release day for the reaping. I grunt, remembering I have to volunteer. I reach my door, dodging my mother and father, scrambling up the stairs. I trip and fall flat on my face. I glance up, and my father's icy blue eye's that so resemble mine glare back at me.

"Aid, what are you doing on the ground?" He asks coldly.

"I wanted to clean the stairs" I say sarcastically.

"Tsk," He tuts as he walks away. My dress is laid out on my bed, I slip it on quickly before running the brush through my dark brown hair, letting the curls fall to my shoulders.

"It smells bad" I state to anyone that can hear me, now at the reaping.

"Watch it!" A girl yells at me as I step on her toe.

"It was an accident," I say sarcastically. She glares at me, then turns her head back towards the stage. I glance at the other girls in the 15 year old section. The girl whose foot I stepped on is deeply immersed in the terrible speech our escort is giving.

"Ladies first!" She trills. She pulls up a name and before she opens her mouth, I yell,

"I VOLUNTEER." I smile smugly at the principal of my academy as three other girls volunteer, but all are older than me. Rit glances worriedly at me as she makers her way upstage. A burst of adrenaline surges through my veins making me do the unexplainable. I quickly sprint up to the stage pushing Rit out of the way. She screams.

"Trying to take all my glory?" I sneer at her. "Huh?" I repeat as she doesn't respond. I look up as the other girl who volunteered, she has one foot on the steps and seems to be having a tough time getting up. I smoothly reach her and elbow her out of the way, stepping up to the microphone the escort yells "Your name?"

"Aiden Motivi" I say proudly. As she calls the boy's name, I glance at my mother and father. _This is my time to shine. I am coming home no matter what. Are you ready for me, Capitol? You better be, cause I will rock this Hunger Games._

Patrick's POV

"Hey, Robin Hoods!" Samuel yells. "Who wants breakfast?"

Cheers from all assembled, including me. Samuel strides to the center of the

circle I form with the rest of my friends, the band of homeless teenagers that we are. He drops his burlap game bag next to our small fire, our smiles illuminated by the flames in the early morning sunlight. It's bursting with vegetables from the previous victors' gardens. Everyone rushes forward to take their fill, but never takes more than what they need. We have too many others to take care of to be selfish. Our band takes care of most all of the homeless in this area, making sure they have enough blankets to keep them from freezing, enough food to keep their bellies from grumbling. Yeah, we're thieves, but we prefer to think of it as redistributing the wealth. Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor. Hence the nickname.

Our hideout is in one of the district's more dank and desolate allies, but we've

managed to make it work. It's plenty hidden and disused enough to hide us from any

prying shop owners or Peacekeepers. We always have a fire going during daylight hours, and everyone has a tent roof over their heads at night. It's hardly paradise, but it's sure better than what I did have. My father abandoned me when I was little for some unknown reason, and I was raised in scuzzy foster homes with abusive parents until I turned thirteen. That was when Samuel discovered me, and invited me into the Robin Hoods. I've been here for three years now, earning my keep, making sure to help out in any way I can. Teaching the little orphans to start fires and not burn themselves.

Delivering soup to the old woman without any teeth or family.

After everyone has eaten their meals of ice-cold squash and cucumbers with

rosemary needle tea, I set off for my morning errands with Justin and Danial, two of my closer thief-friends.

As we hop over a barbed-wire fence to steal some jerky from the butcher, I finally

bring myself to say it.

"I'm going to volunteer."

"What?" Danial asks me. "Dude, are you completely insane?"

"No, not completely. Some parts are missing."

"What are you thinking?" hisses Justin. "You're just going to leave all of us to go

have a grand old time getting brutally murdered?"

I sigh. I knew this wouldn't be easy.

"Look, guys," I begin. "The Robin Hoods are the best thing that's ever happened

to me, and I'm grateful every single day for all of you. But I can't live my life like this. I want security. I want to know I'll be safe when I go to sleep, and know that I'll absolutely have food when I wake up. And this could be my chance."

"But-" Justin begins.

"We'll root for you, Patrick," Danial whispers.

Later that morning, we all try our hardest to comb out our hair, scrub the grime

and dirt off of our faces. We don't have any nicer clothes, so, no worries there. When we get to the square, we are all herded off into our respective age sections. They draw the girl's name first, as usual. But before any names can actually be called, a dark-haired girl literally fights her way up to the stage and stands proudly before the crowd. We learn that her name is Aiden, and she looks dangerous. Really, really dangerous.

Then the escort calls the boy's name.

"Barry Dinkleberg!"

The scrawny blonde boy barely has time to look terrified before I call loudly,

"I volunteer!"

"Oh, lovely, a volunteer!" the escort squeals, looking slightly relieved that there

won't be another fight.

I stride confidently up to the stage, trying not to let my fear show. If I win, this

could mean my escape from poverty forever. Mine, and my friends'.

"What is your name?" the woman asks me, smiling somewhat freakishly.

"Patrick Macdougall," I say, brushing a bit of dark red hair out of my face as the

hot sun beats down.

"Patrick and Aiden, everybody!" the escort trills. I step forward to shake Aiden's

hand, but I notice that it's terribly mangled. Horrified, I quickly reach for her other one.

She glares at me, and makes a subtle motion of snapping my wrist. I gulp. Well, just you wait, Aiden. I think. I'll win this whole thing, and I'll never have to be hungry again.


	3. District 3 reapings

Hey guys, thanks for sticking with us.

Rolocot's POV

"Smitty!" I call, concerned of his whereabouts. I haven't seen him in over 20 minutes and being in the woods, you could easily get lost, especially if you were ten.

"Over here!" I hear him call back. I glance at him, one foot in the river and the other on the slippery bank. He brings down the spear on the fish and quickly pulls it back out.

"Let's get back," I say, taking his hand.

The bow wrapped tightly around Amary's hair bounces up and down as she walks down the stairs. Giving me a hug, she quickly plops down on the floor by my feet, looking worriedly up at me. I stroke her hair, calming her down a bit.

"Myles!" Kimber exclaims as Myles accidentally knocks down the cup she was pouring water in to.

"Sorry," He mumbles, used to this.

"Don't yell at him, he's blind!" Amary exclaims loudly. I pull her into my lap and motion for the others to come sit on the stools by my feet. Smitty passes around the bowls of fish and Kimber passes the cups filled with water. We eat in silence.

"I'm scared." Kimber states boldly, letting her light blonde hair fall from it's ponytail. I look at her. I have always been told that she is the sibling that resembles me the most. Her green eyes light up as I pull out a bag of strawberries, laying it on the stool in the middle. Amary reaches her little hand towards a juicy strawberry.

"Time to get ready. Kimber, you help Amary get dressed and then let her eat some more strawberries. Make sure she hasn't got any juice on her. Smitty, wash the dishes and then get dressed. Myles, I will help you." I say clapping my hands together.

An hour later I have Myles and Kimber by the arm, walking them to the roped off area. Amary reaches her arms up to me as I turn to leave. I pick her up and pull her in a warm embrace. Smitty and Kimber join in too. I kiss them each goodbye and pull Myles by his arm. I station him in the 13 year old section and hand him over to his best sighted friend.

"Thanks," I say as I clap him on the back.

"No problem," He replies. I walk to the 17 year old section and take my place. I catch sight of Adventi in the 16 year old section. My heart flutters at the sight of her. I raise my hand to my spiky blonde hair, trying to flatten it. Adventi makes eye contact with me but she quickly looks away.

"Ladies first!" My thoughts are interrupted by our escort, Meredith's, loud, irritating voice. "The female tribute for district 3 is.. drumroll please..." Everyone ignores her. "Tough crowd," she mutters. "Adventurous Sirtsele." My jaw drops open as I watch my sweet Adventi walk up to the stage, shaking in her fluttering lavender dress, her auburn hair not in its usual ponytail, but instead it is let down on her shoulders. The first time I met her was in the woods, when she was about to eat a poisonous berry but I immediately stopped her. We had talked for hours, I told her how my parents died when I was fourteen, and how I was left with one year old Amary, four year old Kimberly, six year old Smitty and last but not least ten year old blind Myles.

"Myles Humphrey," I hear Meredith call. I look at Myles, shaking with fear.

"He's blind!" Smitty yells. I glare at him.

My arm shoots up and the horrible words that will end my life come out.

"I volunteer." Everyone looks at me again so I repeat it. I walk up stage shrunken and shake Adventi's hand. Her palms are smooth and cold. She quickly looks away from me as she is led away. Of all people why her, why her? I can never kill her, How do I get home to my siblings, how will they take care of themselves without an adult, orphanage is the answer, I am not coming home, but… I look at Adventi. She will

Adventurous's POV

"This looks good, don't you think?" my brother Niall asks me, holding up a pudgy gray squirrel with an arrow lodged clumsily in its neck. I try not to shudder at the blood running thickly down its body, but instead imagine what good, tasty breakfast it will make for my brothers. We're not exactly starving on my dad's wages from making TVs and stuff for the Capitol, but he has four hungry kids, three of whom are teenage boys. In other words, there's NEVER enough food. Niall and Carter, my two younger brothers, help me hunt in the sparse woods near the district boundary. I don't even know why the Peacekeepers try to enforce any sort of poaching law. I mean, everyone's hungry here, and those rabbits reproduce way faster than we can eat them.

"Hey, Adventi!" Carter calls, jogging out from behind some bushes. He holds up a cluster of shiny green berries. "Are these poisonous?"

"Uhhhhh..." I mutter, staring intently at the handful of fruit. The leaves are spiked and stripey, arranged in clumps of five. _Leaves of five, let it... what? I give up._

"Better not," I advise. "I'm pretty bad with berries." Suddenly, my entire body is wracked with spasms. My "jitters".

"You okay?" Carter asks, concerned.

"I'm fine," I reply. "Such is the price of my inventing. I come up with cool stuff, it shocks me. Life happens."

We walk back home, several dead squirrels in hand. My oldest brother Worthy fries them up, and we eat them in a stew with some genetically engineered chicken eggs from the market. Techy people eat techy food.

Later, we leisurely walk to the square where the reapings are held. I'm not too worried, because even though I've taken out some tesserae, there are kids who have their names in far more times than I do. One is always concerned, though.

I push my way through the sixteen-year-old section until I find a spot where I can clearly see my brothers. Good, they're all in where they're supposed to be. Rolocut Humphrey tries pathetically to flatten his hair, and looks straight at me. I try to manage a smile in his direction, but quickly look away as I am distracted by District 3's escort. She shrilly reads treaty of treason, then bounces over to the name bowls.

"Ladies first!" she trills maniacally. "Adventurous Surtsele!"

Oh my God. _It's me, but it can't be me. The odds were in my favor..._ Shaking like an electrically charged leaf, I tuck my long auburn hair behind one ear, my fingers unsteady. My light purple dress billows in the wind, and I try frantically not to cry like my brothers are, like my parents are. _"I've got no chance"_ is all I can think. Then, next thing that I know, Rolocut is striding up to the side. He looks terrified, whether or not he knows it. _Oh, no, not him too! _I think. _I can't kill him! Please, don't make me kill him..._

**Love ya guys!**

**-connorxrisa897,iloverueforever**


	4. District 4 reapings

Ambel's POV

I stop midway to my brother's bedroom, paralyzed with fear. My sight begins to go blurry, then it comes. _I kneel on the ground, in between my parents' clutched fingers. _

"_Momma, momma, don't go!" I scream. Jare throws himself on our father, clutching him as death begins to take him. _

"_No, no!" he screams. I press my small hand to my mother's abdomen, trying to stop the constant flow of blood. Her lovely voice reaches my ears._

"_It's too late, Ambel, it's too late." I stare into her hazel green eyes, watching as they slowly close and she takes her last breath. I turn to my father now, but it's too late; he is gone as well. I restrain my brother from leaping onto my father's still form. He jumps into my arms, sobbing. _

"Ambel," my brother says as he shakes me. "You okay?" he asks. I nod.

"Let's get ready," I chirp, a little too cheerfully. I wipe the single tear that has fallen down my face. It used to be worse. The flashbacks, the nightmares, they used to be horrible. I would wake up screaming and crying hysterically, and wouldn't calm down for hours. I remember my little brother's face illuminated by the moonlight in the doorway of my room, as the kind old lady next door calmed me down. I rinse my long, curly, black hair in the sink, brushing through it. I glance in the mirror and pull my tube of lip-gloss out. My mouth was huge when I was little and still is.

I take my brother's hand as we leave the house. I knock on the old woman's door. This is a kind of tradition we do, every year since my parents died, my brother and I come to her house and walk with her to the reaping. After a couple of minutes Jare becomes impatient and knocks again. I try to look in through the window, but see nothing. So we go around back and go through the back door. The house looks the same as always, except for the bedroom door being open. I quickly pad in and sigh. There, head rested on the back of the rocking chair, is old Maya. I smile to myself and quietly reach out my arm to her forehead. Now that I swiveled her around, she looks deathly pale.

"Jare, go to the reaping, I'll meet you there!" I yell. He shuffles out the door quickly. I lay my ear against her chest; there is no heartbeat. I lift her up and tuck her in bed, kissing her forehead lightly. I head out the door. I bump into the table and a beautiful woven seashell necklace falls to the floor. There is a piece of paper on the table. "For you, my dear Ambel," it says. I collapse in a chair and begin to sob. I sit there for a long time before I tie the necklace around my neck and leave to go to the town square. Amie is already on stage, and bubbly and obnoxiously Capitol as ever. I head to the 16 year old roped-off area and stand among my friends.

"Ambel Silver," Her voice rings out. My body stiffens and I freeze in place. My friend pushes me lightly and I take a step forward. The stage looks so high from the place I am standing. Amie reaches her hand to me and I take it. Silent tears fall down my face as Amie calls the boy up. _I can't win, the odds are not in my favor. My mom died, my dad died, Maya died, I died. I'm already gone._

Rylan's POV

I grab my sister Lily's carefully woven fishing nets in one fist, feeling the weight of fresh seafood still squirming, trying to get away. _Whatever, fish. You're stupid enough to swim into a net, you deserve to get eaten. _I dunk my head underwater, trying to fix my messy blonde hair. It's so full of salty water, there's no way to de-messify it.

As soon as I see the next big wave headed towards me, I dive, headfirst, into it, riding it expertly all the way back to shore. It's become a comfort ritual for me, to start my mornings alone, swim in the vast expanse of cerulean ocean, retrieve the nets we place every night so that we'll have tons of crabs, fish, and the occasional octopus to sell for other stuff. I used to have a real problem of not being able to keep my emotions in check, being way too open about whatever I thought was sad or unfair. Naturally, that didn't work too well and always got me in trouble. So my dad put me through months and months of mental training to "toughen me up". It worked, but I still take comfort in little things like this.

Dragging the net along behind me, I run up the shore, winking flirtatiously to the occasional attractive teenage girl. I put my shirt on over my swim trunks, and begin my jog home. Not too far, considering I live right on the beach with my dad and little sister. I wipe my feet on the woven grass doormat, and step inside.

"Good haul today," Lily says, staring, impressed, at the net I carry. "Lots of crab for us today."

"Well, I know how much you like them," I laugh, mussing her long, blonde hair. "I really think the new bait's working well."

"Hey, Rylan!" my dad calls. "Give me the fish, I'll start washing them. You, sir, need to get cleaned up for the reaping."

"Yeah, he looks like a sea monster," Lily giggles.

"You'll have to go to the reaping next year," my dad scolds. "You always need to look your best in case you get picked." With that, he strides away, and Lily sticks her tongue out at him as he leaves. I go shower and comb out my shaggy hair, and within a half hour, I'm ready to depart for the square. My dad and I walk in silence the entire way.

"Good luck, son," he tells me, patting me on the back as some Peacekeepers herd me off with the other seventeen-year-olds. I entertain myself through the reading of the Treaty by locating the hottest girl around me. It's kind of hard when everyone's looking so worried and clenching their teeth, but I don't blame them. I'm sure the Games will be the hardest thing I'll ever do, but I'm determined just to go and win so that I'll bring honor and glory to my district and family. I just hope that I'll be able to ally with the Career pack.

Amie Jeranamo, our Capitol escort, calls some girl named Ambel, and no one volunteers for her. She just stands on the stage, shaking and crying. As bloodthirsty as I might have to be, I hope I don't have to kill her. Before Amie can even call a boy's name, my hand shoots straight up.

"I volunteer!" I yell confidently. As Amie blabbers on and on about how _exciting _it is to have a volunteer, I stride up to the stage, and stand across from the crying girl. She looks at me, petrified through her tears, as if I'm already trying to kill her. We shake hands, then she takes a step back from me. _I'll do everything I can to win this thing_, I think. _To honor my family, and my district. As long as I don't have to kill her. _


	5. District 5 reapings

Marissa's POV

I sit on the raggedy patchwork quilt of my bed, curled up with a pencil and some graph paper, doing my homework for Solar Studies. I know it's the morning of the reapings, but I was too worried to sleep in. My sister Lindsay still snores on the opposite side of the room, her slumber apparently not hindered by any worries of the reaping, or being picked for the games, or the games in general. Good for her. With the constant din of machines generating power for the next day during the night hours, insomnia's not a rare thing in District 5.

I look at a complex equation on my paper, involving the rate at which different artificial solar energy sources generate power depending on the altitude. It's weirdly worded, but I've solved it in no time. Intelligence will take me far, or so I've been told many a time. Suddenly, my mother's voice rings out from down the hall, startling me enough to make me draw a huge, smudgy line all through my beautifully solved problem. _Profanities! _I think. _Now I'll get points taken off for neatness, not to mention having to do it all over again. _

"Marissa! Lindsay! Time to get ready for the reapings! We can't afford to be late again this year! You know what happened with the Peacekeepers last time!"

"Mom!" I scream, apparent fury in my voice. "You just made me mess up my equation!"

"Marissa," my mom says wearily. "Please, don't get mad at me right now. I know we're all stressed and worried, but we've got to comfort each other in this dark time. I know that whenever this time rolls around, all you can think of is Amy, and how much you miss her. Believe me, she was like my third daughter, and I miss her too. We've just all got to be strong."

"I'm sorry," I murmur, hugging my mother tightly. "I don't mean to be angry." Her arms easily wrap around my tiny frame, and I bury my face into her shoulder. After a little while, she leaves, giving me a quick smile, but not without throwing a pillow at my sleeping sister's head.

My mom is right. It's not just the equation, or my "anger management issues". It's the games, and the constant worrying that it's going to be me or my sister, and the ever-present memory of Amy, who was once my best friend.

We had grown up together, my family essentially adopting her when her family couldn't afford to feed her. She had always been there for me, and we had done everything together. That is, until the games took her from me two years ago. She was a tiny thirteen-year-old girl, from a poor and lesser district. The poor thing had no survival skills, and had known that she didn't stand a chance. The Capitol had brutally murdered her, purely for its own sick entertainment. I've been terrified ever since.

I quickly dress in a long black skirt and overly large blouse of my mother's, and comb the snarls out of my long, carrot-red hair. After my parents walk us to the square where the reapings are held, they hold Lindsay and me tightly, until the Peacekeepers pull them away, insisting that we must join our age groups. I stand with the fifteens, nervously grinding my teeth through our escort's long and painstakingly boring speech.

"And now, we will choose our lucky girl to compete in the 36th annual hunger games!" she practically squeals with delight. _Hardly lucky, _I think.

The escort pulls a carefully folded slip of paper out of the cavernous bowl.

"Marissa Wesley!"

_Oh, no. Not me, it can't be me. Please, let it not be me. No, this isn't possible. This is not happening. _

"Marissa?" the escort chirps. "Please make your way up to the stage, Marissa!" I take a deep breath, smooth my skirt, and feel my mind go numb, blocking out the hurt and pain of the moment. I stand in front of my district, my blue eyes blank, trying not to feel anything. _I can win this if I really try, _I think. _If I try my hardest, I just might win. This is for you, Amy. _

Cache's POV

I lean over my parents' grave, placing the white flowers on the mulch. I trace the words on the headstone. _Maine and Ray Lam. May be thought of forever, died May 10__th,__ the year of the 25__th__ Hunger Games. _No one new much about my parents' death. I'd asked around, but the only straight answer I got was, "They died in a research plant." I turn to my right, coming upon yet another grave. I replace the wilted flowers with the new ones. I repeat the words of the tombstone in my head. _Minor Lam. May lie in peace, died January 5__th__, the year of the 34__th__ hunger games. I have no one left_ was my thought the day my grandfather died. He died of cancer that wasn't found until the month before. They knew it was coming, but no one had told me anything.

"Cache!" I hear Ms. Natre call.

"Coming!" I yell as I pick up my bag and pull it over my shoulder. She looks at me weirdly as she ushers the group of orphans out the door.

The air is wet and dry as we head back to the orphanage, walking in a clump. The orphanage was never welcoming to me. It's usually gray walls are touched up with a bit of coloring for the reaping. The people who head the orphanage secretly love the Hunger Games so that we can get off their hands. When we go to the graveyard, the group of orphanage rebels huddles close together and prays for the past children who died in the Hunger Games. I always thought it was ridiculous to rebel for something that was never going to happen, but then again, that was just my thoughts that no one seemed to care about, but they should. When I lived with my grandfather, I assumed that everyone loved me, but when he died I knew. I knew it wasn't true because none of my "friends" would let me live with them. I walk up the stairs to the small gray room I share with my roommate Merdi. I quickly plop down on my cot, pulling my textbook onto my lap.

"Hey!" Merdi practically yells in my ear. He is so loud, and social, and friendly, almost exactly the opposite of me.

"Hey," I say before returning to my book. "Let's go." I take one more look at my crumpled bed, and casually throw on a sweater. A little girl reaches her hand out for me to lead her to the square. I ignore her hand; this day is about me. I make my way across the group of ineligible orphans huddled at the outside of the rope. I sign in, walking to the 13-year-old area. _The day before my grandfather died, he had ruffled my straight black hair, messing it up. I had yelled at him, exclaiming that I needed it to look good. _

"Cache Lam," a loud voice rings out. I look up, meeting the green eyes of the escort. "Are you Cache Lam?" she squawks at me. I nod. _This is impossible, there has to be something wrong with the drawing. I only have two slips._ I silently walk up to the stage, still lost in my thoughts. I try to see if she is hiding a slip in the palm of my hand, and can just make out a white corner of paper poking out from her slightly closed fist. I act before thinking, jumping forward wrestling the paper from her hand. She screams. Peacekeepers come and pull me away from her. I slip the paper that I managed to grab into my pocket. Grinning slightly, Marissa looks impressed. _I just did that, I can win!_


	6. District 6 reapings

**Hey guys! Here is district 6 reaping! We have the arena all planned out and we are SUPER excited for the games to start! **

**Love ya guys!**

Alyssa's POV

_I pull an arrow from my quiver, closing in on the styrofoam circle. I pull the string back, getting ready to let the arrow fly. The bull's eye seems to mock me. Letting the arrow fly, I turn, knowing that it will hit the bulls eye. _

"Alyssa." My best friend Amarie shakes me awake. I grumble.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"4:45," she answers truthfully. I grumble again; she knows that I need my sleep.

"Let's go for a run," she says. We change into running pants and plain t-shirts. I reach up to pull my jet-black hair into a high ponytail.

"Your hair is so long," she says with envy while playing with her short brown hair. We take our normal path that winds around town so we can pick up food for our families. It's always been cool that we are best friends because we are neighbors. I wave at my friends grouped around the fresh food.

We reach home two hours later because we stopped to hang out with our friends. My little sister Minnie waits for us at the door, pulling me into a hug.

"We got breakfast!" I exclaim as I lay the basket of bread on the table. Amie comes stumbling down the stairs at the sound of my voice. Her birthday is on reaping day, so I quickly place a rag over the small cookie on the plate. She kisses me on the cheek.

"Bye, Lyssa," Amarie says.

"Bye, Amar," I say, hugging her. I watch her walk out the door.

"MOMMY! DADDY!" Minnie yells in the direction of their bedroom. My parents emerge, lagging a big present behind their backs.

"Look whose birthday it is," they say, kissing Amie lightly on the cheek.

Two hours later, I am braiding Amie's black hair, and zipping up her light pink dress. I flatten my blue dress, pulling it to my knees. I glance in the mirror. My round face is pale against the sunlight. I stick out my prominent chin, and gaze into my emerald green eyes. I see my mother, and Amie in my eyes; theirs are identical to mine.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and quickly grin at Amarie. She grips my hand tightly. I gaze upstage, watching district 6's escort giving her opening speech and placing a hand in the glass bowl. She pulls out a piece of paper and opens her mouth.

"Alyssa Samrua," she yells. "Please make your way upstage, Alyssa." No one moves. The crowd is silent, not approving of me being reaped. I let go of Amarie's hand and confidently stride halfway to the stage.

"Lyssa!" A voice calls out. I turn around meeting Amarie's blue eyes. Her voice forms the words "I volunteer." I glare at her.

"No," I mouth sternly, shaking my head just in case she didn't understand me. I stumble up the rest of the stairs, my eyesight blurred with tears.

"Congratulations, Alyssa," the escort says. I wipe the tears away. She reaches in to the boy's bowl, taking out a slip of paper. "Aylau Breelin, please come forward." A short, scrawny boy comes forward. He comes up the stage. He has bright blue eyes. I recognize him, because of all the kids that pick on him. _Aylau is leaning against the doorframe of the bakery, observing the people around. I stand at the food market across from the bakery, watching him. His blonde hair looks almost white against the sun's glare. Two boys come up behind him, and one shoves him. I quickly scramble to the door, into the sunlight. _

"_You gonna die!" the bigger one exclaims. I come in between him and them. "You can go now," I say sternly. They snigger and mutter something along the lines of "Got your girlfriend looking out for you, huh?" I laugh at them and then turn to Aylau, who is rubbing his shoulder. "You ok?" I ask. He nods. _

"_Thanks," he mutters quietly._

"Shake hands!" The escort's voice brings me back from my flashback. I take his hand and squeeze it once reassuringly. I smile at him and for the first time he smiles back. _Maybe this won't be so bad. _

Aylau's POV

"Eh, ya screwed, kid," Miracle says, her cloudy, gray eyes looking straight at me. "I'd say ya got a couple of months or so. If ya lucky. I'm so sorry."

I can feel my disproportionately large blue eyes widening.

"Are you sure?" I stutter, not believing what she's telling me.

Miracle, District 6's finest healer, only nods in response. Tears filling my vision, I hand over some coins as payment and walk silently out of the cramped little shack. I've known about my deadly liver disease ever since I can remember. It never really seemed so real as now, though. I just can't accept that I only have a few months to live.

My dad waits outside, slumped on a tree, stinking of some mysterious liquor.

"I'm going to die in a few months," I tell him, trying to stifle my tears.

"Good for you, Aylau," he slurs. "You get an early ticket out of the district." He laughs then, a terrible, rusty sound. I ignore him as he continues to cackle about mortality the entire way home. It's easier that way.

By the time we make it back to our house, I am winded and panting. My sickness has always made long periods of travel painstakingly difficult, and my family can't afford to take the fancy streetcars and trains that District 6 is known for.

"Where's mom?" I ask my father, who already has cracked open another dark-colored bottle.

"She's not feeling too great. She's in bed. You don't wanna see her," he mutters.

He's right. My mom, although a much kinder and gentler individual than my dad, is a morphling addict. Has been one ever since she lost her job when I was four. She needed the drug to soothe her depression and suffering, but now she can't live without it. I don't like to see her, because it makes me sad to see how such a happy and successful person can turn into such a wreck in so short of time.

I try (and fail) to make myself look presentable for the reapings that take place later this afternoon. My wispy, white-blonde hair never behaves, and it's not like I can exactly look healthy and loved. When I am ready, my dad's nowhere to be found, so I walk myself to the square.

When I arrive in the crowd, the throngs of people are suffocating, but I wiggle my way through to the twelve-year-olds. The other kids nudge each other and snicker at the sight of me, but I'm fairly used to it. My peers have always been cruel.

It's hard to pay attention through the escort's speech, but I am momentarily startled when she calls a girl's name: Alyssa Samrua. I remember her. She saved me once from a crowd of bullies who were teasing me about my sickness. I've always been grateful to her for that.

Once Alyssa's up on stage, the escort woman dips her well-manicured hand gracefully into the boy's bowl, and pulls out a slip of paper.

"Aylau Breelin!" she says. I freeze right where I'm standing. This was not supposed to happen. My name was in three times, for tesserae for my parents. Three slips, out of thousands. For a moment, I stand there, hoping that someone, _anyone, _will volunteer for me. But there's nothing but silence in the stifling air. Then I realize grimly: _I'm going to die anyways. Even if I wasn't picked, I'm still going to die._

I walk dejectedly up to the stage, and stand beside Alyssa. She squeezes my hand comfortingly, and smiles at me. I smile back.

(again) Love ya guys

-connorxrisa897 and iloverueforever


	7. District 7 reapings

**Hello, little biscuits! Here are the reapings for District 7. Thank you for staying with us, and we hope you enjoy them! **

**Love to all of you,**

**-iloverueforever and connorxrisa897**

**P.S. To all of you **_**Unwind **_**fans out there, I have posted a little one-shot song-fic I wrote for it. Please read and review! -connorxrisa897**

Rhymer's POV

My family crowds around the heavy, wooden dining table when my mother calls us to breakfast. My younger siblings race, seeing who can slide into their chairs and sit down the fastest. My little sister Theta races straight into the table's sharp corner, hits her chin, and begins to cry. I scoop her into my lap, and stroke her curly golden hair.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," I murmur. "Everything's all right." I kiss her chubby little cheek, and plop her in her chair.

"Where's the food?" my brother Baron screams rudely. He's been testing out his obnoxious 'alpha male' side lately. However, I know that it's pretty common in little boys, and that he'll grow out of it sooner or later. At seventeen, I'm the oldest, so I see all of my siblings grow up.

"Breakfast is right here!" my mother chirps, putting obscenely large platters of eggs, bacon, toast, waffles, and sausages on the table. Not hesitating at all, the little ones all dive for their favorites, resembling a pack of wild dogs. I sigh. Having five brothers and sisters can be hard, on my parents and me especially. But my dad is the mayor, and my mom has the highest efficiency record for housemaids in the district. So our home isn't at all poor, just crazy.

My dad strides in to the sunroom, taking his usual place at the head of the table. He gazes fondly at his flock of tow-headed children, and takes the biggest waffle for himself. He winks at me, and ruffles my hair.

"So, Rhymer," he says. "Are you nervous about the reaping?"

"No, dad," I groan. "I'm the mayor's kid. I have no tesserae. I could win if I did get picked, probably even blindfolded with one arm tied behind my back. Why would I possibly be worried?"

"That's my little girl," he booms. "Always the confident one. And you're still special, because you're the only one in the family that's currently qualified. Cordo just turned eleven, and everyone else is younger than him."

"Yep," I say, my mouth full of crispy bacon. "I've got this in the bag."

An hour later, I put on my reaping outfit, a silky turquoise sundress and sandals. The square is always hot in the direct sunlight of reaping day, and I want to make sure I'm comfortable. I brush my long, flowing, blonde hair to the side, and admire my reflection in the mirror. After I make sure I look perfect, I'm ready to head out. My parents walk with me to the huge open space, and I can easily find my section, because almost no one if there at this early of an hour. My dad has to be there early to prepare for his speech.

After what seems like days, everyone has finally filed in, and all proper speeches have been given. The escort, a scarily cheery Capitol woman, hobbles on sky-high heels to the bowl containing the girls' names.

"Rhymer Wellwood!" she says happily, smiling as everyone gasps that the mayor's daughter was chosen. Whatever. I'm prepared. I can win these games, no problems at all. My family will just be _really _rich. I stride up to the stage, and stare out at the audience. _I can do this. In my sleep. Watch for me, District 7, you'll see me again before you know it. _

Tasi's POV

"Hope!" I call out, waiting for my German Shepherd dog's black bushy tail to appear from behind the tree. She comes bounding in and licks my cheek. I kiss her softly on the top of her head. Walking to the river, I sit down on the slippery edge, leaning over to take gulps of water. Hope drinks from the river too, and then licks her nose happily. I pull out two buns of bread. I tear one in half and place it on the ground by her paws. I slowly chew mine. When she is done I give her the second half.

I lift the heavy axe and bring it down upon the firewood I am chopping. I bring it down once, twice, and then it splinters, breaking apart. I look over at Hope lying in the soft hay at Haloti's feet. The lumber boss is my "father". He found me alone and starving in an alleyway. My father abandoned me when I was five in the woods, because he blamed me for my mother's death. She died while giving birth to me. At age seven, I found Hope, an also abandoned organism. At that time, she was a puppy. Then, three years later, Haloti Merkava found me. At that point I was just Tasi, but then he took me in, as Tasi Merkava. Now I work at his lumberyard, chopping wood. I take a break and shift my weight to my bad leg. Four years ago, I was in the woods with Hope and I took a nap under a tree. I suddenly awoke when the tree started falling. I managed to save Hope but the tree fell on my knee, tearing all the ligaments and breaking all the bones in my right leg. I have never fully recovered from the incident.

I stand up from my perch on the log, tossing half of my sandwich to Hope. I go to Haloti, standing between him and Hope. I am 6'4; much taller then Haloti.

"Time to get ready," he says, reaching up to ruffle my curly, dark hair. I let my hair fall from its short ponytail as I walk up the short flight of stairs. As I glance in the mirror, I trace the giant scar above my left eyebrow. When I was in the woods, a bear attacked me, and it clawed me there. Hope and I fought it off easily, because I am so strong and well, she is a dog. Instead of hurting the bear, we let it run away, because I hate to see animals in pain.

The short walk to the square is eventless, since we live in the town. I quickly sign in and go to the 16 year olds' roped-off area. I stand with the unfamiliar people in my group. I have a couple of friends, but they are all older than me. I glance at Hope, waiting by the rope that separates the eligible from the inelgible. I wink at her, not caring that she won't understand.

"Welcome, welcome, everyone!" Elisa, the escort, calls out to the now-full square. "May the odds be ever in your favor!" she says, before quickly pulling out a piece of paper from the girl's bowl. "Rhymer Wellwood!" A girl from the 17-year-old section starts walking upstage. She has on a bluish-green dress with light green sandals. Her blonde hair flows behind her as she walks up the stairs. "Congratulations!" Elisa says. "Next are the boys." She plucks a paper from the girls bowl. Everyone begins to murmur. "Meri…. Whoops," she says, realizing that she picked from the wrong bowl. She takes one from the right bowl and says, "Tasi Merkava." Hope barks at my name. I take long strides to the stage. I can hear whispering about how tall I am. I take my place beside Rhymer. "Congratulations, District seven's lovely tributes!" the escort says. I shake Rhymer's hand, gazing in to her bright green eyes.

"It's okay," I whisper, loud enough for only her ears to hear.

"It's more than okay," she retorts, smirking. "I'm coming home," she whispers malevolently. _I can make it home too, _I decide, _although it's more of a question then a statement. _


	8. District 8 reapings

**Hey guys here are the District 8 reapings as promised! Hope you like them!**

**-connorxrisa897 and iloverueforever**

Brooke Alysia's POV

"I'm home!" My father's slurred voice comes from the door.

"Great," I tell my mom. She is leaning on the doorframe, Clutching her head. I help her to bed, pulling the covers over her head and lightly kissing her forehead. I walk in to the kitchen where my father has lit a cigar and started smoking. "Put that away," I say. I reach for it and he takes it away from his mouth. I hold my hand out. He quickly goes to put the cigar in my palm but instead presses the butt of the cigar against my palm letting my skin burn. I scream turning and immersing my palm in the pitcher of water. I sigh as the burning goes away. He chuckles lighting another one. He goes to the cupboard and reaches for a bottle of whiskey. Instead his hand finds air. I grimace remembering that he threw it away last night, after having a fit of addiction.

"What did you do with my liquor?" He screams at me.

"Nothing," I say backing in to the corner, knowing what was going to happen. He comes horribly close to me, picking up his hand "LIAR" He screams, spitting in my face. He strikes me once, twice, three times. I stumble in to the table, hitting my head with the corner. I fall to the ground and black out.

I rub my temple. When I pull my hand away I see a terrible amount of blood. I stumble to the mirror, Peering in I see the nasty gash on my temple. I grunt while wrapping a loose bandage around my head. I check my body where he hit me. Just as I expected three new fresh bruises emerged on my pale body. I look at the clock on the mantle. Hitting my head I sprint up the steps to my mother's bedroom. She is still sleeping; I arouse her telling her to get ready. I untie the red bandage and soak my temple in water. I brush my platinum blonde hair, while checking on my cut. Then I tie another bandage around my head. I slip in to my best dress which I have had sense I was ten. It reaches my knee and before it was a little bit below my knees. I'm not very tall, only five feet tall.

The suspense is killing me as I wait in the 14 year old section in the town square.

"Good Afternoon!" Reich calls. No one answers him so he continues. "Ladies first!" He chirps in to the microphone. "Brooke Alysia Reyes!" He calls in to the packed square. I pause not sure if I should go up or not. A tear rolls down my cheeks because I know that my parents will dive in to alcohol and soon forget their daughter as they had forgotten there baby son that died of the flu the previous year. I walk casually up to the stage. The rest of the time goes by fast, as I can't stop looking at my parents with my deep blue eyes trained on theirs. Not surprisingly, they don't look back at me.

Reggie's POV

Wiping the sweat off my brow, I turn off the huge, ominous machines I work beside, suddenly halting their deafening whirring. My ears ring almost permanently because of the din. I melt into the crowd of factory workers, the sea of scarred, sweaty, uniformed men and women all pushing past each other to go home to their families. I've known most of these people for years, one would think that they would realize that shoving only slows down the process. But I'm guilty of it myself.

I finally make my way out into the freezing cold night, the sun having departed a long time ago. The dead, brown grass crushes easily under my weight in my clunky, heavy-duty work boots. A cute blonde whose name escapes me waves, her gesture almost lost in the blackness.

"Hi, Reggie!" she calls. I wink at her, smiling as I recall her name.

"What's up, Fae?" I yell back.

"I'm Carletta."

"Oh."

"Well, I've got to get home! See you around!" she says, running through the layer of dust on the ground.

By the time I arrive back at my home, I'm freezing in my thin factory uniform, wishing for nothing more than my warm, soft bed. Instead, I get a fight.

I stride through the doorway, wiping my boots on the shabby doormat. My little sister Iafella runs clumsily to me on her chubby three-year-old legs and hops into my arms.

"Hey, Ia," I coo as gently as I can.

"Where've you been?" a cold, scratchy, male voice asks me. My father. To say the least, our relationship needs some work. He comes into view now, in old, filthy clothes, a ruthless fire in his bloodshot eyes.

"I've been at work. You know, making money so that our family doesn't starve like you would let us?"

"Don't start with me," he growls, grabbing my shirtfront, causing Iafella to squeal and toddle away. "You know what I can do to you when you give me attitude."

"Who's paying for your liquor?" I whisper as I walk past him. I know he still fumes, but it's not worth getting into a fight at this hour. When I finally fall asleep, it is deep and dreamless.

The next morning is chaos at my home, as usual. My sister Meesha and I try to get ready for the reaping, but my other four siblings (all too young for the games), run around crazily, getting in the way. I finally manage to dress in some dress pants and a collared shirt, ignoring the screeching all around me. When my mother awakens, she makes a big fuss out of straightening my tie, flattening my dark, gelled hair, and telling me how old and mature I look. I have always loved my mother; she's such a kind, gentle woman who doesn't deserve the life she was handed.

At last, I stand in the crowd with the other seventeens, feeling the heat in the direct sunlight and close proximity of all the others. The mayor gives his speech. The mentor, looking garish and out of place, picks a girl's name: Brooke Alysia. I don't know her personally, but I know that her father will drink with mine on occasion. So she probably doesn't have it very good, either. Alcoholism is a common plight here, because of the terrible living and the cheap booze.

Suddenly, I am drawn from my thoughts by another name. The boy tribute's name. My name.

"Reggie Cawthorne!" the escort calls. "Please make your way up to the stage, dear."

I'm not really surprised. Honestly, it was bound to happen eventually. I'm seventeen, and I've taken out tesserae for every member of my family, which is gigantic. I'm still sad, though, because I know that my odds of winning against twenty-three others are fairly slim. I'm the only provider my family has left.

Once I'm on the stage, I nod solemnly to the little ones, making sure that they know they are not forgotten. I shake hands with Brooke Alysia, seeing the marks of constant abuse on her body. _Maybe I can actually win, _I think. _I'm strong. People like me. At least I have a better chance than she does._

**We love you! Hoped you liked it!**

**-conn0rxrisa and iloverueforever**


	9. District 9 reapings

**Hey Guys! Whats up? Here you go :)! We are almost ready for the games! :) Aren't you all just SOOOOO excited :) Love ya guys!**

**-connorxrisa and iloverueforever**

Kat's POV

I sit in the wheat fields, splayed comfortably out, notebook and pencil in my hand. The stalks of grain are a little itchy on my smooth, tanned skin, but I'm too preoccupied to care. When the creative muse strikes me, it seems like the rest of the world is miles away. Right now, I'm writing a story about a girl like me who lives in the ceilings of her schoolhouse and makes friends with my real friends. I've been working on it for a few weeks now, and I think it's turning out pretty well. I'm always starting stories and never coming back to them, but I think I'll actually finish this one.

This deep of a creative funk is why I don't hear my twin brother, Rhons, calling for me until he's about a foot away.

"Kat!" he yells, practically into my right ear, making me jump slightly.

"Hi, Rhons," I say, dragging myself from my notebook. "Good morning to you too."

"Breakfast is ready," he says, yawning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Terry made bacon. You know, on reaping day, we could all use a little treat."

"Bacon!" I scream, sprinting back to the large, brick house where we live with Terry, a kind, middle-aged woman who takes care of us. I can practically smell the magical meat already.

When we're seated at the breakfast table, Terry asks,

"So, Kat. What were you doing up at 5:00 this morning?"

"I always wake up at five," I respond quietly, trying to finish chewing. "I'm just normally not out and writing until six."

"Crazy kid," she mutters, affectionately ruffling my hair. "Now get ready, you have to be down to the square soon."

"Do I have to wear a dress?" I whine.

"Well, I'd prefer it if you did, but I know that won't work," Terry responds, sounding exasperated. "Just put on something nice, and brush your hair a bit."

My hand instinctively finds my dark brown hair, which is very choppy and short. Terry waves her spatula in my direction, letting me know that I should probably do what I'm told. I groan, but go off to my room to get ready.

I must dig through my closet for half an hour before I find something nice to wear that I would actually wear in public. I settle on dark brown dress pants and a blue, not-too-ugly shirt. I brush my hair for a while, wishing for its comfortable messiness, and look at myself in the mirror. _You don't look awful, _my eyes seem to say back to me. They're my favorite of my features, one emerald green, and one light brown. It's unique, at least.

My brother and I walk the short trek to the central square, Terry kissing us goodbye at the entryway.

"See you soon," she tells us gently, pushing us toward our age group, the fourteen-year-olds. The crowd is antsy, and I couldn't be more happy for the super-boring Treaty of Treason to be over, and for the girl's name to be called. That is, until I _hear _the name. The creepy Capitol escort dips her decorated, scrawny hand into the cavernous glass bowl, and pulls out the first name she stumbles upon.

"Kat Laderman."

_Oh, no. Oh, not this. Anything but this. Please, let me be dreaming, or something. _But as the fateful name is repeated, I realize that I am fully awake. This isn't anyone's sick joke, at least, no one other than the Capitol's. Determined, though still startled, I stride up to the stage, fists clenched. _I can do this, _I convince myself. _I might not be very big or strong, but I'm smart, and I'm fast. Those qualities and a bit of luck, and I might just have a chance. _To come back to Terry, and Rhons, my brother and best friend.

Runnet's POV

The train comes to a stop in District nine, I stand up and jump around cheering. This is my favorite part of my job, getting to go to other cargo stations. I run a hand through my Dark sooty black hair. My mother always tries to get me to cut it, but I refuse. I pull my pink scarf tighter around my neck. My glasses begin to fall down my nose so I push it up with one finger. I get out of the compartment and head to the cargo up the closest box, I place it on the little railway car. I continue this process until there are no more boxes left.

Four hours later I reach my house. My mother is there waiting with lunch on the table. I kiss her on the cheek, before sitting down to some cornbread with jam.

"How was the train ride" She asks while calling my father to lunch.

"Good" I say with a mouthful of food.

"Don't eat with your mouth open." She scolds. I grin showing her my food. She playfully "accidentally" spills water on me.

"Hey!" I say a little to loudly.

"What's going on in here," my father asks, Wrapping his arms around my mother. I have always loved how much they love each other.

"Nothing just a little water fight!" I explain. My mom snorts pointing to the little wet spot on my t-shirt.

"What, would you like a real water fight?" She asks me. I shake my head as she gets the pitcher of water and pours it over my head.

"Thanks!" I say dumping my cup of water on her shirt. She giggles. Ever sense I was a child my parents have always acted like my friends more than parents.

"Go get dressed," says my totally dry father. I look at my mother mischievously. As he turns we each grab a full cup from the table and come up behind him. Mom stands on the chair, so that she is taller than him.

"Dad!" I say. He turns around "GO" I say. We dump the water on him. "Guys." He says seriously. We all burst out laughing. We all head upstairs to our separate rooms. I change into a pink polo shirt and black pants. I look in to my deep blue eyes, they have gotten darker as I grew older.

The son beats down upon my hair making me pull it into a short ponytail. Some people make fun of me because they say I look like a girl. "Kat Laderman!" Jeneath the escort calls. A girl about 5'2 walks towards the stage. She has a horrible short hair cut with light brown streaks in her dark brown hair. I watch her for a while. "Runnet Greene!" Jeneath calls. I felt like crying, my vision blurred for a moment but then I pulled my self together and walked up to the stage, taking my place besides Kat. As I turned to look at her I notice that one of her eyes is green and the other is brown. _Maybe I'll win. _


	10. District 10 reapings

Gisa's POV

I pet the foal's little head, letting her chin rest in my other hand as I kiss her forehead.

"BOO!" My little brother Isiac screams as he jumps on my back. I pull him off of me.

"Your going to pay for that!" I say playfully. He giggles, so I attack him with tickles.

"Stop, stop," he manages to let out. I stop for a minute then continue. He gets his feet under my stomach and pushes lightly up; this causes me to fall back.

"Aha!" he says, making himself comfortable on my abdomen. I gasp, trying to find some air.

"You win!" I say between gulps of air. He gets off of me. He takes my hand and leads me home. I enter my father's room. Kissing my father's head I sit down on the stool by his bed. I grab his hand. "How are you doing, dad?" I whisper.

"Better," he says weakly.

"Hmmm," I say replacing the dry towel on his head with a wet one. I get up and state, "I'll make some lunch." He mumbles something inaudible as I turn. I start slicing the vegetables and place them in the big pot of stew. "Isiac!" I call. "Lunch is ready." He comes into the kitchen holding a little journal that he takes everywhere. He loves writing little stories, quotes, or little thoughts about his life, but he does it in the moment. He claims that we can read it when he is done. I put the bowl of stew in front of him and carry the other one to my father's room. I hear him snoring lightly so I place the bowl on the nightstand. I walk back to the kitchen and take a seat at the table with my little brother.

"Today is the reaping," he says quietly. I nod, showing him that I heard. "Gisa!" he says quietly. I look up at his worried eyes.

"Yes?" I ask.

"You have 36 slips!" he says, not able to continue.

"I won't get picked, that's 36 against hundreds." I say.

"That's what Mother said," he says. I almost choke on the stew.

"You were young, how do you remember?" I ask him. Our mother was 13 when she had me, and 17 when she had Isiac. When she was 18, she was reaped into the hunger games, I had no idea that Isiac remembered her that much. He looks at me and points to his book. I nod, showing that I understand. I clap my hands together. "Let's go!" I say. "DAD!" I call into his bedroom. I hear a faint answer. I walk closer to his room. "Come say bye to dad," I say to Isiac. We go to his room and each kiss him on the forehead.

We reach the square, tired from walking that long of a way. I walk him to the 12 year old roped off area, I wouldn't let him take any tesserae. If he was picked I would go crazy.

"I'll meet you at the bakery after the reaping." I tell him.

"For what?" He asks me confused.

"You would have survived your first hunger games, Don't you think that's something to celebrate?" He nods. "Bye, Gisa, I'll see you at the bakery." He gives me a hug and then I squeeze his arm reassuringly. The sun is in my eyes when I am standing in the 16 year old area. I am much taller then any of the other girls. I am 5'10' and people make "fun" of me for that. Talia the escort comes on stage.

"Welcome, and happy hunger games… May the odds be _ever _in your favor." She takes out a slip of paper from the girl's bowl. "Gisa Roth!" I walk up stage, not even caring until I see my brother's face. His face is a mix of anger, sadness, and guilt. When I reach Talia I act as if I was going to take her hand, she takes the bait and reaches forward. I quickly move my arm to the microphone. I take hold of the cold metal. "What is she doing, what is she doing!" Talia is yelling, not even helping the peacekeepers. I bring the microphone down on to the stage trying to smash it. Just before it falls against the stage the Peacekeepers take of hold of me and take me in to the justice building._ So much for "I won't get picked, that's 36 against hundreds"._

Justen's POV

"And I got Tulip in the house with me tonight, everybody say MOO!" Tulip, my parents' most ancient milk cow, simply stares blankly at me, and as do the rest of the goats and cows around her. I'm out in their field, where I spend all of my free time, practicing my singing for when I'm a star in the Capitol. "She probably thinks she's too cool for me," I chuckle into a branch from the nearby bush. "But I know how much you all love me. Isn't that right?"

Once again, I am greeted by silence. _Whatever. _This livestock will be struck so suddenly with the brightness of my fame, their eyes will get boiled. _Or something like that. _

When I saunter back inside, I immediately grab my prized can of hairspray, and begin to squirt it indiscriminately all over my head.

"Hey, mom, what's shakin'?" I ask of my mother, a short woman who always looks as tired and run-down as our milk-cows.

"Please, Justen," she pleads weakly. "Speak to me normally, just for a little while."

"But Mom-kins," I murmur awesomely. "Sooner or later, the cows will moo when I sing to them. And then the Capitol people will find out about me, and we'll be stars, all talking even weirder than me."

Her brow furrows, and she frowns at me.

"For your own good, Justen, I hope you get reaped. It'll teach you a lesson. Ah, why couldn't I have gotten a _normal _baby boy? Of all the sons I could've gotten, why _this _one?" she sighs, then walks away.

A little while later, I'm all dressed, complete with platform sneakers that make me look taller than my five feet, three inches. My hair is sticking up like steel wool, and my eyebrows are freshly dyed approximately eighteen shades darker than my hair. I get money to buy my clothing essentials from letting little farm kids throw stuff at me. 1 coin per object, only refunded if they hit me. And with my cool dancing, I can always dodge them, except for that little brat with the awesome aim and the chicken eggs...

I can tell my mom will try to say something exhaustive and maternal, so I sneak out the side door to our cozy farmhouse. I practice walking on my hands on the way to the public square, causing the previously mentioned little brat to point at me and giggle. _Just act like you're too good for him. If you act cool, you are cool. _

__The public square is alive with nervous energy, and I think how much fun this would be if two of us weren't about to be slaughtered. I notice that my group, the eighteen-year-olds, all looked bored. True, we have the most slips in the ol' bowls, but we've had to do this six years in a row, and honestly, we're all sort of over it. After the super-long-super-boring speech-- some girl gets called up and tries to smash in the mic. Hey, find your free entertainment where you can. But then, the boy's name is called.

"Justen Numbskull!" the escort trills. _Oh, *bleep*... _

__I try my hardest to show my unbothered swagger as I stride casually up to the stage. I know that I don't stand a chance in physical combat, but maybe if I can make the audience love me, I'll get enough sponsors to sit on my butt and let the other tributes kill each other. _Sounds pretty good to me. Yep, that's definitely the way to go. _


	11. District 11 reapings

Liova POV

The wind brushes against my hair. I let it loose from its ponytail, letting my ash blonde hair fly in the wind. I glance at the sun, and groan. Climbing down from my hiding place on the roof, I silently open the door, and tiptoe upstairs to my room. I jump in and turn to slip into bed, but something makes me stop. A slightly smaller version of myself-sitting on the bed with her little arms crossed, is my little sister Olive. I groan.

"Liova," she whimpers. Today I don't see any of the anger I usually see in her eyes when she looks at me after I sneak in; instead I see fear. I bang my head on the wall, today's reaping day. I pull Olive into a hug and she does not pull away.

"Shhh, it's okay," I say reassuringly. Olive is only seven but she is pretty smart. My sisters Meena and Emmie toddle in to the room. I kiss them on the cheek. "Time to get dressed!" I say to them. I help Emmie and Meena get dressed in matching frilly dresses. I hum while I comb their hair. Olive comes into the room and takes my hand with her small thin one.

"Come on," she says. She leads me to my room where she laid out a simple black spaghetti strap dress. "Oh, its beautiful!" I exclaim happily. I easily slip it on and stand before the mirror.

"Oh, Liova!" my mother says as she walks in to the room, with my little sister Emmie in her hands. "You look beautiful, sweetie," she adds while pulling my blonde hair to the side.

"Thanks, mom!" Olive exclaims. I glare at her playfully.

"What did you do?" four-year-old Meena asks innocently. I hadn't noticed her walk in to the room behind my mother.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing!" I exclaim.

"Well, excuse me!" she says. "Offended," Mom snorts and Olive rolls her eyes. Little Emmie starts crying and my Mom leaves the room to put her down in her crib.

I pull Meena up into the air, and rest her against my hip. Reaching for Olive's hand, I glance towards the square. "Come on, girls," I say nervously. Olive turns around and beckons for my mother to hurry up.

"Come on, Mom, hurry!" she yells. I pull her skinny arm back and lead her to the square. "We'll wait for mom here," I say. She glares at me, then looks around for her little friends. I lead them to the roped off area and impatiently wait for my mother. She finally shows up dragging Emmie by her tiny arm. "Mom!" I exclaim loudly.

"What!" she says, reaching up to wipe the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. I place Meena's little hand in hers and bend down.

"Meena," I say quietly. Her big green eyes look up at me. "I'll see you at home," I say comfortingly. She wraps her little arms around my neck.

"I love you, Liova," she whispers quietly.

"I love you too," I answer. I pull a loose strand of her golden hair back. Kissing them all goodbye I turn to the 16-year-old area. I glance back at my family. My mom has Emmie resting on her hip. Emmie's light brown hair is tousled from my mother's black jacket. I laugh, Emmie is **NOT **going to be a girly girl, but she is only two, so _who knows?_ Meena is pulling on Olive's hand while looking around for me. I wave to her, letting her know that I am safe.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the reaping!" the escort practically yells. I stifle a snort, and turn to my neighbor.

"Could they get any lamer?" I ask without thinking. She looks away from me. _Okay, maybe I don't have that many friends, but that was __**unbelievable. **_I grimace as someone steps on my toe, "Watch it!" I whisper and shove her aside.

"Liova Hallp!" I hear the escort call. I freeze dumbfounded. I take one glance at my family and my eyes begin to fill with tears. Making myself move, I begin to shove people to the side while making my way upstage. I take my place on stage, watching through tear-filled eyes as Mellent Kramer is called up. I can feel his black gaze on me as I stare into space. I glance slowly at him when we shake hands; he has short-cropped black hair and a small smile. We shake hands and we are led away to the justice building.

Mellent's POV 

"Mellent! Wake up, you useless lump!"

This is sadly how my day begins. I hear the high-pitched female voice _right _in my ear as I struggle to emerge from a dream in which a folk-dancing bar of chocolate is telling me in song to 'make a change in my life'. _Weird... _

I am only able to groan as I push myself into a sitting position, blinking the sleep out of my eyes as my two friends' faces come into focus. Geko and Thistle. They've been my preferred companions ever since I started school when I was six. Thistle pokes me in the side, and says,

"Mellent. Wake. Up. NOW."

"Why?" I mutter. "It's too early, and besides, it's reaping day. Can't you people let me sleep before I know who from our district gets killed for the sick entertainment of the people who bleach their eyebrows and drink while we all sit back and die young of sickness and starvation?"

"No," Thistle says, her bright green eyes shining with amusement. "We've all got a lot of slips in this year. I at least want us to be able to hang out one last time before we _die."_

"Besides," Geko says, chuckling. "We've got pancakes in order to lure you to breakfast with us."

"Chocolate pancakes?" I ask hopefully, remembering my dream.

"Exactly."

"Let's go, then," I say, hopping rapidly out of bed, and chasing down the lane after my friends.

A few hours later, I run back inside my house, stuffed full of sugar and pastry. I get ready quickly, knowing that I'm almost late already. _Hair combed? Check. Dress clothes? Check. Tie? Check. Shoes? Check. Awesome. _

__"Bye, Rayma," I say, scooping my little sister up into my arms. "See you after the reapings! Love you!"

"Don't get picked!" she screeches. "Get picked and you _die. _Even if you win, I'll kill you for making me worry."

Charming little child, ain't she?

An impossibly long time later, I'm in the crowd of potential reap-ees (_is that even a word?) _when the escort yells,

"And now, we select our male tribute!" Finally. He practically skips over to the other glass bowl, and rummages around for _forever _before finding a paper to his liking. "Mellent Kramer!"

_Wait...WHAT? I cannot have heard that right. _

__"Mellent Kramer! Mellent, please come up to the stage now."

I couldn't be more shocked, but I realize the sudden importance of this moment. If I'm strong, the sponsors will notice me. And if the sponsors notice me, I have a much greater chance of staying alive. So, I set my jaw and walk up to the stage, taking my place beside some girl named Liova. We shake hands, and I turn back to face my district with a solid face of good old-fashioned determination.


	12. District 12 reapings

Daisy's POV

"Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!" my little brother screeches obnoxiously, poking me harder with each repeated name.

"What?" I ask, exasperated. My brother, Ro, is adorable, but sometimes he _gets on my nerves. _

"Are you gonna get picked for the games?" he asks, looking up at me through dark brown eyes which closely mirror my own.

"No, silly," I tell him, giving him a quick squeeze. "I've only got four slips in those big, giant bowls. No big deal, and then we can celebrate afterwards, okay?"

"Can we eat cake?" he asks hopefully.

"Sure, Ro," I say. "After all, we live right next door to the bakery. I like the vanilla ones with a lot of frosting."

"Me too!" he squeals, then runs off down the hall. We do live in District 12, the poorest and most depressing of them all, but my parents are successful apothecaries, and we're part of the small merchant class. We're still not very rich, but I've never had to worry about going hungry.

"Daisy!" my mother calls from the kitchen, her slight merchant's accent audible. "Time for breakfast! You must eat so that you won't be hungry during the picking of the names!"

"Coming, mom!" I yell back, quickly hopping down the stairs. When I arrive, Ro is already seated, napkin tied lovingly around his neck, while my father sits quietly, downing a full mug of tea.

"So, how do you want to celebrate after it's over?" my mom asks after we've all been served our toast.

"I don't know, but I've promised Ro some cake from next door," I say, winking at the little boy.

"Well, that sounds lovely," my father says. "It's always a relief to know that our daughter has been spared another year."

"Now, about the mustache..." my mom begins uneasily.

"No," I say, defiant. "I'm wearing it."

"But just in case you _are _picked," she says. "Do you really want all of Panem to know you as 'The Girl with the Mustache?'"

"I don't _have _a mustache. I wear one. Proudly. It's my trademark!" I chirp happily.

In response, my parents sigh. They are, of course, referring to the enormous fake mustache, nightly oiled, that I constantly wear. Except to bed and in the shower, of course. But I am not me without it; half of my district probably wouldn't even recognize me. I am a girl with the last name of "Moustache", I at least ought to wear one.

Once I am dressed in a pretty blue cocktail dress that was my mother's, my shoulder-length black hair brushed and shiny, and my mustache firmly glued to my face, I am ready to go. My family accompanies me to the shabby public square, where the Capitol people have at least tried to make it look festive. They hug and kiss me goodbye, and I stand, waiting, in the crowd.

The general speech is R-E-A-L-L-Y B-O-R-I-N-G, so I look for some way to amuse myself. Every so often, I'll turn slightly and jab the girl to my left in the back of the head, then quickly turn away and giggle. I can tell that I'm annoying her, but hey, it's pretty fun. But my attention is recaptured when the escort calls,

"And now, we pick our female tribute!" I go through the familiar crossed fingers of 'please not me, please not me', when she says, "Daisy Moustache!"

_Dang. Well, this sucks. _

"Crudmonkeys!" I scream, angry at the world, kicking my feet as I walk up to the stage. "FUDGE you, President Snow!" I yell, knowing that our new president is the center of this unfairness. The escort tries to shush me, but I don't care what she says. After a little while, I calm down. It's really funny because a couple of boys even get into a fistfight for who's going to go. _Boys are so stupid. _The one that finally wins the fight stares awkwardly at my mustache, and I know that if he says anything, he'll get the "Evil Thumbs of Death" treatment in a heartbeat. _Heeheehee, _I think.

Alex's POV

"Dude, get that out of here" I say, holding my nose with one hand.

"Fine," he says and chucks it out the open window. I pick up a history book from his bookcase and peer into it.

"Aha," I say. I take out a pen from inside my bag and quickly write something in my notes. He throws me a nasty look then returns back to his homework. I lay the heavy textbook on his messy bed. "Gotta go," I say sadly after I look at the clock on his bedside table. He throws a pillow at me.

"See you later, Alex," he says.

"See ya, Jake," I say, before turning and leaving the room. I walk down the familiar hallway to the kitchen. I have known Jake since we were really young and I even dated his younger sister for two years. _Shoot_, I think as I see Johanna, Jake's sister, in the kitchen, lounging on the countertop.

"'Sup, Jo?" I say awkwardly. She turns to face me. Her blue eyes meet my brown.

"Hi," she says lightly. "Nothing much," she adds, answering my question.

"Oh," I answer. _Stupid,_ I think. Jake says that she still has a crush on me, but every time he tells me I wave it off. I broke up with her because it was weird for her brother to be my best friend. Besides, Jake was now dating my older sister Lara. That is really awkward; she is two years older than him. I shake the thoughts away.

"Bye," I say absently.

"Goodbye," she says slowly. I can feel her blue eyes gazing at me as I leave the house. I can't help remembering how she used to run her tan hand through my brown, wavy hair. I quickly stop as I trip on a stump.

"Shoot!" I yelp, not caring if anyone heard me. I stumble home fast and settle into my bed.

"Alex!" Lara yells.

"Hmm," I answer sleepily.

"Get dressed!" she yells back. She appears in the doorway, wearing a light green dress that makes her brown eyes pop. "I have to meet Jake before the reaping," she says. I roll my eyes, disgusted. "Fine!" I say regretfully. I throw my pillow at her. "Now get out!" I say. She rolls her eyes and takes the pillow with her. I slip into a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. Glancing carefully at the happy couple I turn my gaze on Johanna. She has her black hair up in a half ponytail. I make myself turn to the stage. "Come on, guys," I say, leading them to sign in. Jake kisses Lara sweetly on the lips and then heads with me towards the 16-year-old area. I watch as Lara takes her place in the 18-year-old section. I look for Johanna in the 15 year old section. "Finally," I mutter, as I finally spot her amongst her classmates.

"Jake Brandon!" the escort yells. I was so busy looking at Johanna that I wasn't paying attention.

"No!" three people yell. I turn my head to see both Lara and Jo, shocked. I glance at Jake. He takes a step, so I do too. We walk through the crowd to the stage. Stopping, he turns to me.

"Don't do this," he says seriously. I shake my head.

"You deserve to live," I snarl. I turn to the stairs and race up them. He catches me easily by the arm and turns me around. I punch him in the face and run up the rest of the stairs.

"Wanna be a victor much?" the escort smirks. I glare at her, then turn back to Jake clutching his nose. I_'m sorry, It's for your own good. I'm saving you. You wouldn't have a chance in the games, but me on the other hand, I can win!_


	13. Gisa's Goodbye

**Gisa's POV**

I can't hold it any longer.I exhale slowly._You can't let Isiac see you like this, _I remind myself. Blocking all thoughts from my head I concentrate on my breathing. _Easy, _I tell myself.

"Gisa!" A little voice says coming from the door.I look up letting my blue eyes settle on Isiac. He whimpers.I hold my arms out to him and he jumps in to them.

"Sh, sh," I say soothingly."Everything will be okay." I add for his sake. I know everything will not be okay.I'm going to die in that horrid arena and no one will be able to do something about it.I sigh, I cant afford to think about that. Isiac pulls away from our embrace. He wipes his teary blues eyes with one hand and reaches in to his pocket with his other hand.

"This is for you," He say pushes his tiny blue journal into my outstretched hand.I kiss him on the forehead lightly.

"It's beautiful," I whisper. He takes the journal back.

"I have to write one last thing." He says surprising sits on my lap but shifts the book away from me. After a little while he stops and closes it.I pull out a shiny silver coin from my it face up on my palm, I make a decision.I run my hand through my black hair with my free hand."Will you except this as your token?" He asks me.I nod knowing that if I talk only a strangled noise will come out.I open my mouth anyways.

"Of course!" I exclaim pulling him into yet another smile brightens as he sees me tuck the journal in to my pocket.I open my fist and place the cold silver coin in his palm."Will you buy another journal, and write about the games?" I ask him. He nods.

"I'll give it to you when you come back." He says confiudently.I force a smile and try to hide a groan. _He thinks i'm coming home. I actually don't plan on it._I take out my money bag from my pocket._I don't need these anymore._I pull him to me.I Place my hands on his shoulders and look in to his blue eyes.

"This is for you to spend on food, use it wisely.I need you to live until...until," I can't finish because Isiac interrupts me.

"Until you come back?" He pipes up. I nod. _I meant until father got better, but... _

"I love you Gisa," He says pulling me into a hug.

"I love you so much," I say kissing him on the head.

"Time's up!" yells the peacekeeper from the doorway.I clutch Isiac close, never wanting to let go.

"No!" we both scream at the same time until I cant tell whose voice is the peackeeper pulls my brother away from me muttering something, he closes the door but before he does I hear him say.

"She's a fighter that one," I chuckle, atleast some things can make me towards the door I decide on what I am about to do.I bang on the door loudly.

"What!" The irritated peacekeeper calls.

"Can I see my father?" I ask once I see the doors open.

"Sure, whats his name?" He asks.

"Jeffrey, Jeffrey Roth." I state hopefully.

The peacekeeper puts his arm around me.

"Let me see.." He says going outside. "Is a Jeffrey Roth, somewhere out there waiting to see his daughter Gisa?" He calls from the other side of the door."Nah, didn't think so." He adds quietly. _I don't think he knows I heard him. _

"I know he isn't out there, he is sick at home in bed, please let me see him and tell him what happened." I say hopefully. He holds up his hand and turns me towards the window.

"Let me know when you get back!" He says. "Then i'll let you see him." He turns around and heads out the door.

"UHHHH" I scream pounding against the walls with my to the ground exhausted I give up.I wait there on the floor until the peacekeeper comes to get me.


	14. Aylau's Goodbye

**Aylau's POV**

I wait for my lovely parents to walk in the even if they are addicts, they seem like the people I most want to see.I don't have any other friends, except for Alyssa occasionally.I smile remembering our shared smile, and our lovely hand was warm and smooth almost welcoming.I like how our hands fit together, like a lock and key._I can't think about her that way, she would never like me like _**_that. _**I skake my head clearing up my thoughts.I see my mothers flowing blonde hair as she walks in the room letting orphling blue eyes land on runs to me cuddling me.

Apparently she was in one of those states where she couldn't talk so I did all the talking.

"I'm not coming out." I say watching her eyes fill with shakes her head, she knew I was dieing but not in this way.I silently agree with her. it's something that we have had to do. We practically made our own sign language when she was in this are connected not only by DNA but by mind hugs me closer.

"I...I...I," she stutters.I take her hand wanting her to say whats on her mind. I start to feel anger boiling up in my stomach. _Why couldn't she stay sober enough for the reaping? _I feel a pang of guilt, my mother would neverhurt a soul in the world.

"Yes, momma?" I ask as she continues to stutter.

"Lo...love," She manages to say. I smile, atleast she is trying.

"What do you love, momma?" I ask.

"You!" She says without difficulty. I pull her in to a hug.

"I love you too!" I say smiling from ear to ear. It's the first time in my life that she has told me that she loves me.

"i'm...mmmm... s...s...s..o...sor...sorry." she exhales as she says that.

"About what?" I ask confused.

"I never showed you that you mattered **alot** to me." She spells out with her hands, now tired from talking.

"It's okay!" I say giving her a hug.

"You understand?" she spells. I nod.

"Times up!" calls the stupid pulls me close and I let her baby me.

"**NO!" **A strangled cry emerges from her lips.

"Come on Mam," He says. "Aylau has other visitors." I brighten up at this, wondering who it could be.

"Bye momma I love you!" I call to my mother.

"I love you to!" she spells from the peacekeepers firm grip.

I watch the dor excitedly. In steps my dear father. Once the door closes behind him he sinks to the ground, with his green eyes on fire.

"You came." I say.

"Yep." He says, his voice deep and gruff.

"I love you son, never forget that." He says. He walks over to me leaning on the wall for suppot. He pulls me in to a bear hug that I return happily.

"I love you to dad." I say for the first time. Even though I said it, I'm not sure I meant it. With that said he strides out of the room, occasionally tripping to the side obviously drunk.I crawl up on the window ledge and wait for the peacekeepers to take me away.


	15. Patrick's Goodbye

Patrick's POV

I sit in the garishly plush room where we're supposed to wait, bouncing my knee anxiously. _They'll come, won't they? They've got to come. _

Just as I start to worry that my goodbyes will be me telling myself not to die, the door swings wide open and a trio of shabby teenage boys in ripped clothes run in, immediately surrounding me.

"I still think you're nuts," Danial says, giving me a bear hug.

"Agreed," Justin mutters, yanking Danial off of me.

"We've got your back. We may not be able to send you any sponsor gifts, you know, the whole 'no money' thing, but we'll be glued to the screens, making sure not to miss a moment. You can win this, no problem."

"Thanks, guys," I say sincerely. "That means so much to me."

"Patrick," Samuel, our leader, says, walking up to me. "Way to go, man."

"Samuel, you know why I did this," I plead. He laughs.

"Of course," he says. "That was one of the bravest things I've ever seen. The fact that you would risk you life on national TV just to make sure we've all got it good is... so kind of you."

"I owe everything to you," I whisper. "If it weren't for you, I would've died in someone's gutter years ago. You took me in, made absolutely sure that I always had food, shelter, and whatever else I needed."

"Don't go all sentimental on me now," he says. "I still need to tell you how to win."

"Oh yeah? How would I go about that simple matter?" I ask, laughing in spite of my fear.

"You've got to utilize what you've got," Samuel says intensely, putting his hands on my shoulders and staring me straight in the eye. "Which honestly, in the muscle department, ain't much. So use your speed to your advantage, and be smart. You've got above average intelligence, and that could keep you out of trouble. So work with that. We're right behind you."

"Not literally, of course," Justin adds.

"Shut up," Samuel spits, punching him lightly on the arm.

I stand up, and hug all of them.

"Thank you guys so much."

"No problem," Danial says. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

"Will do."


	16. Liova's Goodbye

**Liova's POV**  
I carefully push a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. Staring intently at the door I can already feel the tears coming. The door opens and I look up not sure who I'm expecting first. Olive has Emmie on her hip and Meena by the arm. I open my arms waiting for them to embrace me. They all swoop in hugging and kissing me. I look in to their green eyes that mirror mine.

"You will be fine!" Olive states while grasping my hand. I nod doubting myself to say anything. I have to be strong for them.

"YAH!" Meena shouts clapping her pudgy hands together.I smile despite the circumstances.

"I sure will." I finally bring myself to speak. Emmie giggles slightly. Most likely she has no idea what's going on. I brush a lock of her light brown hair pulls a ribbon out of her blonde hair. I remember that ribbon. We sewed it together when my best friend Jase got Olive the fabric, for her birthday last year. We had fabric stood behind the sewing machine side by side while I ran the fabric under the spindle. Then when we were done I had tied it in her hair for her "birthday party" Which was just a little piece of cake.

"Time's up!" The peacekeeper yells.

"We love you!" My little sisters all chorus.

"I love you guys too!" I say kissing them each on the forehead. "Go wait outside for mommy!" I tell them. I pull Olive behind letting the other two go out the door. "Take care of them Olie." I tell her. "Sometimes Mom doesn't do the best job." I remind her.

"I will!" she says nodding. I hug her again. She pulls away. "You have to win Liova!" she says in between sobs. Then she closes the door tightlty behind her. That's when my tears start falling. They trail down my face on to the floor beneath me. I am so obsorbed in watching my tears that I don't notice my mother come in the room. She pulls me into a strong embrace, not bothering to tell me that everything will be alI alright. I wipe my tears away and kneel.

"Take care of them Mom." I say knowing that I said the same thing to Olie. She nods wiping the tears."No!" I say pulling away. "I mean really take care of them."

"I will, I promise Liova!" she says a little to loudly.

"Don't let Emmie and Meena watch me die, Ok?" I ask knowing the answer. She looks up at me tears falling down her beautiful face.

"I won't." she whispers. The peacekeeper takes her away without a big scene. I sit down on the sofa not expecting anyone else in.

"Liova!" A voice exclaims from the door. I swivel around not sure of who it is. My face breaks in to a smile when I see Jase. I run into his arms not worrying about awkwaredness. He pulls me in tight.

"Liova, You have to come back!" He says.

"So I've heard." I say sarcastically trying to lighten up the mood. He shakes his head.

"Now's not the time to make jokes." He says lightly. He pulls me in to another hug. I pull away. I gaze in to his beautiful blue eyes, trying to find his emotions.

"Oh, Liova." He says before leaning down to kiss me. I am startled so I let him kiss me. He is the only person in the entire world that I have ever felt romantic feelings towards. Besides, I am actually enjoying the kiss by the time he pulls away. I lean in for another one letting his sweet lips last on mine. His lips taste like sugar, just like I imagined them to taste like. I pull away this time.

"Now, I really do have to come back." I say. He laughs a small little chuckle.

"Promise to me that you're coming back."

"I promise." I say. He kissess me lightly again then leaves the room when the peacekeeper comes.


	17. Brooke's Goodbye

**Hey guys! Sorry we haven't posted in awhile :( Love ya guys to bits**

**-connorxrisa897 and Iloverueforever**

**Brooke's POV**

I sink uncomfortably into an overstuffed armchair in the plush, artificial room where they have us wait for visitors. I don't know if it's supposed to be welcoming, or homey or whatever, but one thing's for sure: it sure doesn't look like any home I've ever known. It ain't exactly comforting, either. I hear the sobs of small children robbed of their only food provider from the room adjacent to mine, and know that Reggie's family will quickly waste away into nothingness if he doesn't come home. If someone should win, I think he's a pretty good and deserving candidate. Not that I exactly want to die, mind you, but he's got a lot more to lose that I do.

It's unknown to me how long I've been sitting here, waiting, waiting, waiting. It has to have been at least half an hour, but there's still no sign of anyone who would want to visit me. I'm not really "Miss Popularity". I really have no friends, unless you count the exhausted mothers whose laundry I do, but they're all at home, trying to keep their mewling, underfed children under control. The only people who I ever have contact with are my parents, and they're not really very reassuring. I know it's terrible, but I find myself wishing that they won't come. They're my only family, but I'm not sure I can really handle any more stress right now. If I'm going to die shortly, I don't want another fresh layer of bruises and cuts painting my body. Out of boredom and sheer nervous energy, I begin to pick slightly at the wound on my forehead. Immediately, a small stream of blood begins to run down my face.

Just when I'm beginning to resign myself to the fact that I will be the most officially unloved tribute in the games this year, the wide, wooden door swings open without so much as a creak, and my mother rapidly stumbles in, essentially falling on top of me. I gently shove her off of me, (not a very difficult feat), and take a look at her. She looks exactly like what I probably will become, with my same thin blonde hair, about my same body, with only dark brown eyes and many more scars to tell us apart. She looks much older than her forty years.

"Mom," I say, smoothing back her hair. "You came to see me."

"Y-yes," she manages to choke out. "My…little girl."

I fight back the tears I so badly want to cry. How my mom managed to get out of bed, let alone out of the house and past my father, is beyond me. That must explain the harsh, newly-blooming bruises all over her arms and face.

"Mama," I murmur, the rarely-used endearment effortlessly leaving my lips. "You're gonna be okay. Life's gonna be hard, and you're gonna get beat up real bad. You're already sick, and you'll feel like dying. But don't give up. There's absolutely no way that I'll come back, but you need to keep holding on. You're a fighter, and you're one of the toughest people I know. I love you, mama. Just stay strong."

"I love you, Brooke," she says, surprising steadiness in her voice. She wraps me in a tight hug, and I can feel her every rib in her bony frame.

With that, she gets up and leaves, stopping only to let me give her a gentle kiss on the forehead.


	18. Tasi's Goodbye

**Tasi's POV**

I don't like this. I don't like this one bit. I feel cramped and restrained in this tiny room, and I wish I weren't alone. More than anything, I want the vast outdoors that I'm used to, and I wish Hope were here with me. Not having her cold, wet nose nuzzle into my leg is something I guess I'll have to get used to, but that doesn't make it any better. Luckily, I don't have to wait for long, because the door is pushed open, and in walks Haloti, accompanied by a wagging Hope. She bounds over to me, and promptly sits on my lap, making me laugh in spite of everything. She thinks she's a little lap dog.

Hope immediately becomes somber, though, as she seems to sense that I'm upset about something. Dogs are often so much smarter than people, being so in tune to our every emotion. I don't know what I'll do without her. I've told her all of my problems for so many years.

Haloti comes over and hugs me, although my huge frame makes it a little awkward. He pulls away and looks me solemnly in the eye, at least, as best one can with out nearly comical height difference.

"Tasi," he begins, his deep, steady voice cracking slightly. "You have been as amazing of a son to me as I ever could have asked for over the years. You're a hard worker with a huge heart. You're strong. You're compassionate and charming and good with nature. You have a chance, Tasi. You can come home."

"Thank you," I reply, knowing that the compliments are genuine. "You know that I'll try. I'll do my best to come back."

"Yes, you will."

Just then, a group of Peacekeepers enter the room. One of them roughly grabs Haloti by the sleeve and says,

"Okay, time's up. Now go."

"I love you, Tasi," Haloti says. "You can win this."

I don't have time to respond before he is dragged away, and Hope trudges dejectedly after him.


	19. Kern's Train Ride

**Kern's POV**

"You like your toast with butter?" Platinum asks, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder. I look up from buttering my toast.

"Yeah, um… what do you put on your toast?" I ask, trying to be friendly. .

"Only jam, but sometimes cheese," Platinum says, taking a bite out of her toast. "You're not hungry?" she asks when she is finished with hers.

"Not really," I say. She shrugs then leans over and takes the toast from my plate. I chuckle. She gets up to leave but I place an arm on hers. "Wait, we have to meet our mentor."

Explaining things to Platinum is becoming a way of living nowadays. Even if I've only known her for a few hours. Thyme Wood, our mentor, struts into the room that very second. She sits on the arm of my chair and leans in close, her lips graze my ear and I shudder.

"You want some advice?" she whispers. I nod, afraid to do anything else. "Kiss me," she hisses. I swivel around and land my lips on hers. Platinum stands awkwardly to the side staring at a huge mirror.

"It's so shiny," she keeps saying, possibly unaware of the awkwardness in the air. Once I pull away from the kiss, Thyme smiles at me.

"This is how you find shelter..." she says, then goes on to explain something about dirt and trees. I just smile and pretend to be listening. Every once in awhile I'll glance at Platinum who still hasn't gotten bored of staring at the shiny mirror.

"Are you listening, Kern?" Thyme asks, glaring at me playfully.

"Uh.., yeah," I say, trying not to be very obvious. She snorts, then turns to Platinum.

"Get away from that mirror, child, I swear you look hypnotized." Thyme stands up and drags Platinum by the arm to her seat at the dining table. Platinum smiles dumbly at me.

After awhile I begin to get bored, so I start randomly walking around the table. 1, 2, 3, skip jump, 3, 4, 5, skip jump. I sit back down, pull out my stress rope, and begin to tie random knots.

"Are we almost there yet?" Platinum asks.

"No," Thyme says from her seat next to mine.

"Are we there yet?" Platinum asks again.

"We are about as close as we were before," Thyme sighs.

"Are we there yet?" Platinum asks yet again. Thyme shoots an annoyed glare my way.

"Yes," she says, smirking. I glare at Thyme, suddenly feeling protective of Platinum.

"No, not yet, maybe a few hours." I say, then I look at Platinum's face and can tell I said the right thing.

Once there, Platinum and I are ushered to our floor. Platinum is an awe of all the beautiful (and shiny) dishes at the table. I laugh and continue tying knots with my stress rope.


	20. Rhymer's Train Ride

**Hey guys! Here is Rhymer's train ride!**

**Rhymer Wellwood's POV**

The train pulls forward, causing me to slide back in my seat. I grin when Mildred Genea, District Seven's escort falls into the window. Tasi stretches his hand out to her and she gladly takes it. Rubbing her temple she turns to me.

"How do you like your juice?" she asks me with a heavy Capitol accent.

"It's good!" I grin, swallowing. "Thank you," I add, just for the benefit. Might as well get SOME sponsors, I think, turning to watch Tasi's curious expression. I wink at him, meaning to creep him out. I think I succeeded because he frowns and turns his broad back to me. I grin and turn to our mentor, Lona Cyprus. Apparently she won the 20th Games. Her mousy brown hair is pulled into a half ponytail, which sticks up from laying on the sofa. She is chugging a cup of coffee and immediately burps. I grimace at the horrible noise and notice Mildred do the same. For a second her green eyes catch mine and I smile, she returns the gesture and waves me over to take a seat beside her. She chirps about something random that I don't even bother to listen to, it's not like she is the one giving me life-saving advice, that's Lona's job, which she seems to be ignoring. I give Lona one last desperate glance as the train comes to a complete stop. My blonde hair whips around my head, as I open the train door, causing a gust of wind to enter the spacious room. Peacekeepers help me step down on to the big platform and immediately lead me into the building. "Thanks," I say as they unlock a door and lightly push me inside, with the others not too far behind. Lona stumbles into the room and plunks down in a small armchair by the fireplace. Tasi rolls his eyes and for a second I detect laughter in his brownish, greenish eyes.


	21. Platinum's Train Ride

**Hey guys! Here is Miss Platinum Fowley's train ride. Enjoy and review!**

**Oh, and if any of you guys are _Unwind _fans, I (meaning connorxrisa897) just published the first chapter of a two-shot called _A Switch Has Been Flicked _for it. I'd really appreciate it if you'd go read it! :-) **

**Platinum's POV**

From the minute I step onto the train, I'm completely captivated. Everything is just so _pretty. _I finally see what they mean about Capitol things being the most gorgeous, and it's completely true. Looking around just the first room of the train car, I see a world I've always dreamed of living in, with 100% machine-crafted silks and velvets covering every couch and chair, rich jewel-toned walls, plates laden with tiny portions of expensive food, shiny, and heavy solid-silver dishware. Best of all, there's a gigantic mirror on almost every wall, and after eating some toast with Kern, I catch sight of myself in one of them. I stare at my reflection, transfixed by how all the tiny lights in the train car reflect off of it, my dress, even my eyes. It's really cool to watch little lightbulbs _in _your eyeball. I don't know how long I've been standing there, but eventually our mentor tells me to get away from it. I make an exaggeratedly sad face at her, but she drags me away from my _beautiful, shiny mirror…._

Suddenly, I notice Kern. Well, not notice _him _exactly, but I notice that he's really cute. Like, cute cute. Even cuter than several of my boyfriends back in my district. I smile at him, and bat my eyelashes, trying to flirt. Hey, it always seems to work. However, he looks away from me sort of uncomfortably, and starts skipping like a little chipmunk around the room. But after a while, he seems to get tired of acting like a small mammal, and sits down, tying knots in a really gross old piece of rope-like stuff. Well, as long as he's attractive, who cares if he acts kinda weird?

I watch out the window, and see that the scenery looks different from District 1's. Suddenly, I wonder if we've arrived at the Capitol. So naturally, I ask if we're there yet, which seems perfectly reasonable, at least to me. The escort says no. I see a weird-looking bush outside, so I ask if we're there yet. The escort says no. Then, I see a little black garden squirrel outside the window, and it's tail isn't as fluffy as the ones we have at home. I ask if we're there yet.

"Yes," the escort says, smiling slightly. I glue my face to the window, searching for the adoring crowds waiting for us, but I don't see anyone. Huh? I feel my face fall, and I look at Kern for help.

He tells me that we're not there yet, but maybe we'll be there in a few hours. I smile lovingly at Kern for telling me the truth. Sometimes, people tell me things that aren't true because they think it's funny to watch me believe them. That makes me sad. But I know Kern, the little chipmunk-acting- boy with the bright blue eyes will protect me. He's nice, and maybe, just maybe, I'll score myself another boyfriend.


	22. Marissa's Train Ride

Marissa's POV

The train is large, the train is complicated, the train is intimidating. Everything in it is huge, fancy, and luxurious, but all it succeeds in doing is showing me how completely and utterly out of place I am here. Train attendants and waiters bustle past, not making eye contact with me as they fill platters of food. Even our escort seems to blend effortlessly into the endless background of shimmer and shine. I must look as if I'm from a different universe here, the little bookworm who has lived her whole life not having enough to eat.

"This must be quite the exciting event for you, carrot-top!" the escort says just a little too loudly in that obnoxious Capitol accent. "All the people, and all the glamour and style. If you think this is good, wait until you see the Capitol! It's all of this, times ten!" That thought only scares me further, but of course, she doesn't realize that. She continues bragging about her wonderful, prosperous life where anything she wants is available at the touch of a button, and I can tell she's trying to calm herself down from the little incident back in the square. Cache essentially tackling her to steal that paper from her hand must have really startled her.

We sit there in the station for a long time before Cache is finally shoved into the train car by a group of white-clad Peacekeepers. He's a teensy thing, but he's smirking continually, probably because he actually just made them do their job. Whether he's got any chance in the games is unknown, but I like this kid's attitude.

"Sorry, this is a bit late, but I'm Cache Lam, nice to meet you," he says, reaching out to shake my hand.

"Nice to meet you too," I reply, giving him a warm smile.

Within a matter of seconds, the train wheels start to turn, and we're off, quickly reaching higher speeds than I could've imagined for such a rapid acceleration. My mathematics senses kick in, and I pull out a sheet of paper and a pen from my pocket, rapidly trying to calculate our velocity. I'm pretty sure I've nailed the equation, and I turn around to show the escort, because while our mentor might find this more interesting, they're nowhere to be found. The escort blankly stares at my paper in obvious confusion for a moment, then returns to her elegant pastry, muttering, "Nerd."

I sigh. It's not like I don't get that all the time, but I at least feel like having a sliver of a brain in the arena could be more helpful then being 200 pounds of muscle, or being able to kill someone twenty-seven different ways with a dagger. Whatever. At least I'll confound that sorry excuse for an escort where I'm living on some cliff in the arena, using intricate diagrams to set weight traps, and watching as my fellow tributes get lured into not hurting me in the least gory way possible. Just you wait, escort.


	23. Rolocot's Train Ride

**Rolocot's POV**

"Hey Adventi!" I say, perhaps sounding a bit too enthusiastic. "This is, um, some train, huh?"

Quite the attempt at conversation, Rolocot. You and the girl you've loved for years are being sent to your gruesome, imminent death, and all you can come up with is "some train". Wow…

"It's fine," she says, obviously ignoring me by closely examining a strange-looking teapot. Then again, pretty much everything on this train looks strange. For someone like me, who spends all my time in the woods, at least. As I look around the cabin, I realize that nothing, except possibly the coffee table, is a color found in nature. Depressed by the artificial world I now find myself trapped in, I focus my attention on the vast wilderness whooshing by out the window. I see the woods of District 3 pass by in the distance, and long to be among the trees, finding food with my siblings. No matter how fancy and expensive this train is, nothing can beat the forest.

I watch Adventi as she turns over the teapot, flips some switches, and pours some steaming red tea into a delicate little teacup. She repeats this over and over until it's empty, then begins to play with the switches, evidently trying to figure out which does what. Ah, good old Adventi. Always playing with whatever mechanical device is near, looking for a way to improve it. She does keep on shocking herself, but no matter how many times electricity pumps through her, she just keeps on inventing. I admire her courage. Really, though, I just admire her. I stare at her lovely blue eyes, squinted in concentration. She must notice, because she says, somewhat irritated,

"Hey! Rolocot! Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no, you look great!" I quickly reassure her. "There's not anything on your face, I mean, there are things on your face, like your eyes and your nose and stuff, but you need those things, and I don't think those were the kind of things you were thinking about and uh…" I trail off awkwardly, realizing how stupid that must have sounded. Some things just aren't meant to come out of your mouth. Adventi just glances at me, and I can see the concern in her eyes. Now she must think I'm certifiably insane.

"So, do you think there's any sort of electricity in the arena where we're going?" Adventi inquires, looking deep in thought.

"I honestly have no idea," I laugh. "I guess no one does, except for the gamemakers."

"Maybe we'll have some storms," she begins. "And if we have heavy rain, we'll probably have lightning. Whether it'll be computer generated or real, I have no idea. But if it's real, I could hook it up to some sort of rig, and I could make an electric trap of some kind. That would't be any good for catching animals, it'd just char them to a crisp, but if I could actually get any people stuck in it, I might be able to keep them away from me. But. Rolocot, this'll be the death of me. I don't think I'll actually be able to kill anyone. That's just not me."

"It'll be all right," I say, gently brushing a wild strand of auburn hair out of her face. "You're smart. You're creative. You can come up with the kind of brilliant stuff that keeps you alive in the games. And if it comes down to a fight, you know I'll protect you. I will always protect you."

"Okay," she murmurs warily, returning to the task of figuring out the teapot gears. I hope she'll realize that I'm going to stay true on that promise. I will keep her safe and get her home, no matter what.


	24. Cache's Train Ride

**Hey guys!**

**Cache's POV**

The door slams shut behind me, causing me to jump from the loud noise. A smirk crosses my face, thinking about my wrestling match on stage. That might give me some sponsors, because I am positive, none are going to be attracted to my appearance. I walk over to Marissa, greeting her warmly. I think we would be good friends, if we were the same age. She is two years older then me, and slightly smarter, I can tell. She sits at the dining table doing some "math problems". I shake my head. I'm not even that bad. I try to lose myself in one of my daydreams, but don't succeed, I can't stop thinking about what the Peacekeepers said to me.

"This will cost you a lot, maybe even your own life," the main man had said, sending chills down my spine and causing me to tremble slightly.

"Cache? Cache? You okay…?" Marissa asks me, watching my face carefully. I nod, giving her a grin. She smiles back, but her blue eyes never leave mine. I motion to Marissa to sit by me.

"What does she have against me?" I whisper, leaning in close to her.

"Against you, why would she have anything against you? And by she, do you mean our escort?" Marissa asks, a little bit too loud, causing Emilia, our escort, to look up from her clipboard. I glare at Marissa. "Sorry.." she whispers. I nod my head.

"The slip of paper that Emelia picked from the reaping bowl did not have my name on it," I say, slipping her the piece of parchment. She glances down at it and her blue eyes widen.


	25. Adventi's Chariot Ride

**Hey guys! LOve u lots  
**

**Adventi's POV**

"You look magnificent, Adventi!" my stylist Geniva, says, smiling brilliantly at me. Her blue eye shadow makes her grey eyes pop out and I smile at her beauty.

"Can I see yet?" I ask bouncing on my heels from excitement. Geniva nods and drags me to the mirror. My wavy, auburn hair falls in waves to my chest, the back in an elegant twist, leaving the front loose. The shine from my dress bounces off the mirror, illuminating my twinkling blue eyes. "Wow," I breathe out, touching the mirror with one finger.

"Come on, Adventi!" Kenneth Lancaster, my mentor, clucks. I can see he has Rolocot trailing behind him, and despite the circumstances I smile. His suit is made of the same sequins of mine.

"Hey Adventi," he says, grinning at me.

"Hi, ready?" I ask.

"A bit nervous, I have to confess," he says, never failing to smile. I grin, slipping my arm through his.

"Let's do this thing," I say.

The horse's nose nuzzles my back and I swivel around, afraid for a second.

"It's just a horse," someone says. I turn, thinking I'll see Kenneth.

"Oh, hi," I say, finding Patrick Macdougall standing by my side.

"You got an alliance?" he asks, staring at me.

"Umm.." I say.

"Yes, she does," Rolocot says, hopping into the carriage. Patrick glares at him and then turns to me.

"You sure?" he asks. I glance at Rolocot.

"What he said," I say. Patrick rolls his eyes and then wanders away. "What was that?" I hiss at Rolocot.

"That was me trying to become your ally, ally," Rolocot says, winking at me. I try to hide my grin as the chariot lurches forward and the horses start trotting. I smile, waving on the outside, but on the inside I am screaming afraid, to be on a chariot with horses. I try to catch sight of Patrick in his chariot but my eyes fail me. As the lights turn back on and my chariot comes to a stop, I turn my attention to Kenneth who is squealing about how good we were.


	26. Daisy's Chariot Ride

**Daisy's POV**

"What? What the heck is up with this?" I screech in confusion, looking in horror at my rather unfortunate outfit.

"It's your costume," one of the people on my prep team, a woman with 5-inch long nails and electric green hair sighs. "We didn't design it. That was all your stylist. I, for one, think you should stop complaining. It could be worse. You could be naked or something."

"Yeah, but…!" I sputter. "Really? A giant, walking piece of charcoal?" Yep, that's right. There's pretty much a giant flat box on me, except it's really heavy and sculpted to look just like a lump of charcoal. Not the ordinary misshapen chips that most of the district gets, but the more evenly square ones for the rich merchants. If they even have bonfires for fun in the Capitol, I'll bet that's what they use. My entire body's covered, apart from small holes where my hands stick straight out at a 90 degree angle, my feet barely stick out in thick black boots, and my head pops out the top. I can't move my arms, and I can't exactly walk, only hop around (probably falling flat on my face) with tiny little movements. My stylist was wrong. It really couldn't be much worse.

"How are you one to talk?" another stylist says, containing giggles. I really have no idea what gender they are. "I mean, you're the young girl wearing a huge fake mustache."

"That's different!" I say indignantly. "This is just stupid!"

"Deal with it," Green-hair mutters, beginning to put makeup on my face. It's itchy and weird to have people putting stuff on my face, but I know that to complain would just be seen as annoying. When she lets me look in the mirror, I see my stupid costume, and I see that they've applied a bunch of black makeup around my eyes, and even given me black lips. I look seriously depressed. I just can't believe that in order to debut the District 12 tributes to the country that's about to watch them fight for their lives, they're making us look this ridiculous.

I cheer up a little, though, when I see that my District companion, Alex, is dressed and made up exactly the same way I am. It's really funny, though, because he's a boy, and most boys seem even more out of place in makeup than I do. I start to crack up, and he just glares at me. But we're all in the same boat here, so he sees the humor in the situation, and manages a smile.

When our stylist sees the two of us in her outfits, she claps her hands together and smiles freakishly. I don't know if she's gotten extra teeth implanted into her gums or what.

"You all just look so… striking!" she says, throwing her arms out to the side flamboyantly. "So poetic!" What's poetic about lumps of charcoal, the world may never know. "Well, then, off you get!" she chirps. "Stylists!"

Just then, the stylists rush in, holding me and Alex between the three sets of shoulders. They carry us on our backs for a while, until they artfully plop us back on our feet in the carriage.

"Smile and wave!" the third stylist squeals. "They're going to love you!"

I don't have time to think of a reply before the horses attached to our chariot take off, and suddenly, the whole country can see us. Everyone in the stands bursts into hysterical laughter when they see us, between my mustache and us being dressed as coal lumps. Like they're ones to say anything. Oh, well, might as well work with what you've got. I wave to the crowd, smiling under the -ouch- blinding lights above us. Alex pathetically takes a hop towards me, and tries to hold my hand. Disgusted, I realize that I can't reach his face, so I slap his fingers as hard as I can. Boys are so stupid. Alex looks at me, hurt, and discreetly shakes his hand in pain. I roll my eyes. Stupid, and wimpy. If he thinks I'm going to be his girlfriend or something in the arena, he can think again.


	27. Ambel's Chariot Ride

**Disclaimer: If you think we are Suzanne Collins or own the hunger games, please go dunk yourselves in a glass of milk with the other oreos.**

Ambel's POV

"Your hair was so dry and split!" clucks someone from my prep team. "Lucky for you, we're only the best of the professionals, so we could get those tangles out of there in no time, freshen the ends up and everything."

"It actually looks really pretty now," another one says. "The natural wave in it made our jobs a lot easier."

Why they've been obsessing about my hair for some time now is beyond me. I suppose it's just nice that they're trying to make me look pretty, even if they seem to be completely ignorant about how terrible the the things that the tributes have to go through in the arena are. Not to mention the fact that twenty-three families are going to be grieving, some of whom have lost their main provider. Like my little brother. I don't know what he's going to do without me if I don't come home. We've gone over what to do if I got reaped, how to find himself some food and make sure he stays away from people who would put him in foster care. I've never dared to figure out a plan if I never came back, though. It's so unlikely that I'll win, and now old Maya, our one source of kindness and help when we were in trouble, is dead. Gone, just like that. I don't know if my brother realizes how slim my chances of winning are, but he's the only reason I'll try so hard to live. I'll fight as hard as I can, because I know he'll starve to death without me. I finger the seashell choker around my neck, my one physical reminder of my life back in the district. My attention returns to the room around me when my stylist squeaks,

"Oh, you're gorgeous! Look at yourself, Ambel, you beautiful thing!"

I turn to look in the mirror and see that, in honor of District 4, I am dressed as a mermaid. I can understand what the prep team were talking about with my hair now, because they've left it wavy, but cut a couple of inches off and arranged it in an attractively messy fashion so that I look like I've just been gently tossed around by the sea. I'm in a somewhat small, blue-green bathing suit top with a matching tail, just like the mermaids one would see in a children's story book. My face is covered in subtle blue sparkles, which itch ever so slightly, and I'm sure my tail's going to be a bit of a mobility problem, but it could really be so much worse. I actually think I look decent, and I know that my brother will think it's cool that they have me dressed as a mythical creature. Back when my parents were alive, he loved to be read to, loved to hear stories of the fantastic.

The prep team brings Rylan in to see how the two of us look together. He's got the exact same tail I do, and his hair is also artfully mussed so that he looks exactly like the surfer boy he is. He's not wearing a shirt, so obviously they're trying to push his good looks. They must be satisfied with their work, because they drag us out to the chariot area, where we pet the bronze-colored horses we're being pulled by. Suddenly, the girl and boy from District 1 approach us, clothed in long golden robes.

"Hey," the boy says, reaching out to shake Rylan's hand. "I'm Kern."

"I'm Platinum," the girl adds, smiling dazzlingly at me.

Kern shakes my hand, and Platinum hugs me and Rylan, lingering a bit too long on Rylan's toned, bare shoulders.

"So, we're assembling the typical Career pack," Kern mutters, pulling us in closer. "So far, the girl from two is with us, but the boy isn't. Long story short, we need you guys to have a big enough alliance. You in, Rylan?" He immediately nods. "What about you?" he inquires, looking at me.

I consider this for a moment. Normally, the Careers are ruthless and bloodthirsty, killing everything in their path, which is definitely not for me. I can't speak for the girl from two, as I don't know her, but these people seem friendly enough. The Career pack always is very strong, though, and usually, someone in that alliance ends up winning. So….

"Sure," I say. "I'm in."

"Oh my God, I love your face!" Platinum squeals.

"Huh?" I ask, baffled.

"Your face," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's all…sparkly."

"All right, that's enough of that, Platinum," Kern says, leading her gently away by the hand.

"But, but, sparkly!"

Well, I'm seriously doubting Platinum's intelligence at this moment, but she seems relatively harmless. The important thing is that I've gotten myself into a powerful alliance. An alliance that will hopefully get me far in the games, and help me get back safely to my brother. With this in mind, I am free to observe the spectacle around me that is the chariot parade.


	28. Rylan's Chariot Ride

**Disclaimer: We don't own the Hunger Games**

Rylan's POV

I run a hand through my ash blonde hair. Letting my arm fall back to my side, I turn to my prep team.

"How do I look?" I ask, flexing my muscular arms.

"Gorgeous," one says, reaching out a hand. I grin at her.

They finally lead me to a mirror.

"I'm….a….mermaid?!" I stutter, inhaling at the sight of my fishtail.

"Merman," Odyssey, one of my prep people, corrects. I roll my eyes at her.

"That's just as bad," I say, devastated.

"Come on, time to see you two as a pair," one of them clucks, leading me out of the dimly lit room. Ambel looks amazing. Her black hair flows to her shoulder, slightly curling at he ends.

"So, do you like being a mermaid? It sure suits you!" I say, once we're near our chariot.

"Um, yeah, sure," Ambel says, and I can tell I made her uncomfortable.

The pair from one decides to make their way over to us. The girl is gorgeous and I can't help staring. They introduce themselves to us. Platinum wraps her arms around me and I do the same to her eagerly. Ambel shoots me a look and I let go.

"Which one is the girl from two?" I ask, seeing as Kern just mentioned her.

"Umm, that one. Aiden," Kern says pointing to a dark haired standing by herself next to her chariot. Platinum begins to freak out about Ambel's sparkly face so Kern leads her away. I think he may have a soft spot for her, but I don't bother to say anything to Ambel. She seemed hesitant to join the career alliance; I make a mental note to not let my guard down around her.

"I'll be right back," I whisper to Ambel, eyeing Aiden.

"So, I heard you joined the career alliance," I say, leaning on the chariot. Aiden turns, her ice blue eyes meet my green. She smirks.

"Get lost, surfer boy," she says, turning back around.

"Come on, be nice," I say, reaching out to pull her back around.

"How nice are you looking for? I didn't join the games to be nice," Aiden says, whipping her head around, causing her curly dark hair to bounce up and down.

Ambel waves to me from the chariot, letting me know that it's going to start moving soon, with or without me.

"I guess I'll catch you later," I say, turning, "By the way, nice costume," I say.

"I wish I could say the same for you," she says, hopping on to the chariot. I grin.


	29. Mellent's Chariot Ride

**Disclaimer:**** We don't own the HUnger Games and neither are we Suzanne Collins**

Mellent's POV 

Flowers. Why flowers? I ask myself mentally. Okay, so 11 is the agricultural district. I realize this. However, I don't really see why in the world they would decide it makes me look intimidating to put me in a neon pink suit covered in all sorts of flowers. Yeah, that's really scary. Run away, it's Mellent, pink flower boy! Oh, no, I'm so scared. Please. If they're debuting me to the world, aren't I supposed to look tough? I decide to stop obsessing over this. I should be concentrating on how to work around this little clothing issue and look like a good contender anyways.

"I love, love, love your suit!" Solarina, one of the women on my prep team, squeals. "Neon brights are all the rage these days."

"Oh, don't be stupid!" Mirabella says dramatically, slapping her lightly on the arm for effect. She's another prep team lady who Solarina introduced as 'her bestest bestie ever'. "Neon is forever. Brights will never go out of style."

"Um, hello? Still here!" I butt in, sick of hearing their insipid girl talk.

"Oh, hush."

Finally, they get bored of discussing the many uses of pink, so they bring Liova in. She's in a long , flowing dress covered with the same hideous array of flowers as my suit. They stand us next to each other, and have us pose in a ridiculous number of different ways. This begins to get annoying when they tell us for the fourth time to put on our "frightening faces". But Liova's is so ridiculous that when I actually turn around to look at why the prep team keep making us re-do it, I burst into uncontrollable laughter. She glares viciously at me, and looks like she's about to cry. I decide not to say anything.

"I don't know about these flowers," my stylist, Amaryllis grumps at her assistants. "I thought I told you apples! A flower is very much not the same thing as an apple!"

"Sorry, Ryl," Solarina murmurs. "The apples just looked stupid."

"Do not insult my fabulous designs!" Amaryllis screeches. "And now they don't look like they represent District 11, they look like they're from a flower boutique! And a tacky one at that!"

"Why you little-"

"Okay!" I interrupt. "I think it's almost chariot time! Let's go to the chariots!" I start to drag Liova by the hand, but she gives me the most hateful look I've ever seen in my life, so I just try to herd all the angry girls outside.

While we wait for the chariots to take off, Liova apparently thinks it's time to confront me.

"You really shouldn't have laughed at me earlier. That…wasn't… nice. I don't want to see you laugh at me ever again, or I am gonna kill you so hard in the arena. So don't laugh at me."

"All right," I say, backing ever so slightly away. Obviously, this isn't the nicest or most easygoing person in the world. Well, I'm sure I can ally with someone else. I've always been good at making friends.


	30. Alex's Chariot Ride

Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games. :-(

Alex Donavan's POV

"I'm so excited to see your creation!" I say, as one of my prep people spreads black blush  
all over my tan face.

"Ready!" Daniela chirps, steadying me before the mirror. My eyelids flutter open and I  
look at myself in the mirror. All of a sudden my heart sinks.

"Do you like it?" Janice ask, her eager face lit up. I gulp.

"I honestly don't know what to say," I say, not trying to be rude.

"Speechless, that's better then loving it!" Ameria says, giving me a smile and heading out  
the door. I turn back to the mirror and am devastated by my reflection, yet again. I am a  
giant block of coal. Groaning, I turn to Daisy who has the same disgusted look on her  
face as I do.

"Ummm…" she starts. "Your face looks nice!" She grins, trying to make me feel better.

"A lot of people tell me that," I say with a chuckle. "We should go," I say, leading her  
away from the mirror.

I stand in the moving chariot next to Daisy who is waving to the whistling crowd. I  
decide to play along and raise my arm, waving at the crowd.

"You did brilliant!" Ameria screeches in my ear, once I am safely on the cold hard floor.

"Thank you," I say politely, despite the position they put me in. I'm pretty sure District  
12 will have no sponsors this year, I think as Daisy and I congregate in the small  
elevator.


	31. Training Center Day 1: Kat Laderman

**Disclaimer: We do not own the Hunger Games**

Kat's POV  
Well, it's day one of training for the games. Time to shine, Kat, time to shine.  
After we eat breakfast (which is really good, but Terry's cooking is slightly superior), we  
get to ride in the super-awesome elevator. It's amazing, because it feels like the floor is  
floating with your feet. Runnet and I arrive in the training center, where all the other  
tributes are already showing their stuff. Some I recognize from the tribute parade last  
night, some I could swear I've never seen in my life. The boy from 1 is rapidly  
scampering up a tree like a squirrel, the girl from 5 is running across the floor, shooting  
at archery targets suspended from the ceiling, and the girl from 7 is repeatedly stabbing  
a dummy in the heart with a spear, muttering what seems like "die, die, die" under her  
breath. That's not frightening at all...  
I head over to the station marked "Plant Identification". I'm the only one there as  
of this moment, but I figure I should brush up on my skills. The instructor tests me to  
see if I know what's edible, medicinal, poisionous, useless, or any combination of the  
above. I have a little bit of trouble with the exotic fruit section, but I pass the field plant  
and mushroom section in the blink of an eye. I can tell I've impressed the instructor, but  
I grab a little handout about the forest greenery, and sit down against a padded wall to  
do my research.


	32. Training Center Day 1: Aiden Motivia

**Disclaimer: We don't own The Hunger Games.**

**Aiden Motivia's POV**

"I don't want stupid waffles for breakfast," I say, shoving my plate away from me.  
Patrick looks up from his honey coated waffle and smirks.

"Then don't eat it," he says. I glare at him and gulp down my milk.

"So…you two ready for training? " Stiletto Valentine, one of our mentors, asks.

"They better be.." Macia Sworn, our other mentor, hisses from across the room. I  
roll my eyes.

"You both dressed?" Stiletto asks. We both nod. "When get down there, you're  
going to immediately congregate with the careers, got it?" Stiletto asks, shoving a grape  
in his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, waving my hand. Stiletto glares at me.

"Fine, let's go," he says.

"We're forced to stay together," I grunt, standing beside Rylan and Platinum.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Rylan asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I frown but  
secretly smile inside.

"Find someone else to bother, surfer boy." I snarl, grinding my teeth.

"Last time I checked, we were forced to stick together, remember?" he asks. I  
glare at the gorgeous boy, taking in his appearance. Platinum lets out a high-pitched  
scream.

"Um, Platinum, what's wrong?" Patrick asks, shifting from foot to foot.

"The…the…the…" She trails off, pointing to the giant dummy with a shiny spear  
stuck in his red heart.

"Come on Platinum, what is it?" Kern asks soothingly, placing an arm on hers.

"That dummy! She stabbed him dead without any problem! Oooh, shiny…"  
Platinum says, trailing off as she points to my dagger. I groan and roll my eyes. Turning  
to Rylan I whisper,

"She won't last a minute, that one." I say. He nods and smirks at me.


	33. Training Center Day 1: Justen Numbskull

**Disclaimer: If you have the IQ to read The Hunger Games, you should be able to deduce that we do not own it. We are its humble servants.**

Justen's POV  
As I begin ripping apart my waffles with my teeth at breakfast, I watch Gisa carefully. Very...carefully. I need to make my move soon, but I need to make sure I do it right. Right now, she seems to be looking at me in disgust for my table manners, but I don't think she realizes that I'm practicing for when I'm so famous that no one will care. I'll have her on my arm soon enough. I slide/dance over to her chair, pull her into my arms, (although she is a lot taller than me, whoops, haha), and begin to sway back and forth, crooning one of my original raps to her.

"If I bought you a cow, you would really like it. Yeah, you would like that cow-"

"What do you think you're doing?" she screams, breaking free of my arm-lock and pushing me back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, no violence with the other tributes," our mentor says to Gisa.

"Did you see him?" she spits. "He's being a creep!"

After we finally get this small issue resolved, Gisa's still glaring at me. She's just shocked because I'm so out of her league. When we get down to the training center, I know that I've got to show my mad skills, so I find a guy wearing protective gear next to a bunch of heavy foam balls.

"What is this for?" I ask.

"They're rock analogues," he tells me. "You can practice throwing them to be able to throw rocks at the other tributes in the arena."

"Throw them at me," I say.

"What? Are you suicidal or something?"

"Seriously," I murmur awesomely. "I'm good."

He starts chucking the balls at me, and just like at home, I use my amazing dance skills to hop out of the way of _every. Single. One_. Even when he starts throwing two, three at a time, it takes him at least five minutes to actually hit me. Yeah, I'm good. I'm better than good.


	34. Training Center Day 1: Alyssa Samrua

Alyssa's POV

I clutch my tray close to my body, trying to find a safe place to sit and eat. Tasi  
Merkava sits alone at one table, munching on a carrot. I glide over to him and plop  
down in the seat beside him.

"Can I sit here?" I ask. He nods, smiling kindly at me.

"So, what's it like in District 7?" I ask, trying to strike up a conversation.

"Umm..it's warm?" he says, chuckling a bit.

"What's warm?" a voice asks from behind Tasi's huge back. I turn my head to see  
them better. A pale girl with light blonde hair stands behind us, her tray balanced on  
one skinny arm. Tasi finds his voice first.

"District 7," he says.

"Oh," she says. "Brooke Alysia Reyes, District 8," she says, sticking out her hand  
for me to shake. I take it.

"I'm Alyssa, Di-" she cuts me off.

"District 6, right? And you're Tasi?" she asks we both nod, fascinated by her.

After a while of just chatting, Brooke gets down to business.

"So, do you guys have allies?" she asks, folding her hands in her lap.

"Not me," I say, frowning a bit. Tasi shakes his head.

"Great, me neither," she says, grinning at us.

"Do you want me to be your ally?" I ask, happy. She nods.

"I'm in," I say, I mean, what do I have to lose. Tasi thinks about it for a while.

"Okay," he says.

"Great!" We shake hands and I begin to talk about something random and of  
unimportance.


	35. Training Center Day 1: Runnet Greene

**Disclaimer: We do not own the Hunger Games  
**

**Runnet's POV**

I'm not sure what exactly I was expecting from the Training Center, but I now  
know one thing: It's enormous. I feel like a tiny dwarf in comparison to the thirty-foot  
ceilings, huge equipment, and a lot of my fellow tributes, many of whom are displaying a  
disturbingly large number of lethal weaponry skills. However, I realize I'm not alone in  
being overwhelmed, as a couple of others are simply standing around watching with  
looks of terror on their faces. Well, I certainly won't be like that. Every impulse inside,  
every sense of self-preservation tells me to run for the elevator and search for something  
interesting to read in the safety of my room. But I know that would label me as weak,  
something I most certainly do not want. So I straighten my pink belt and head over to a  
station with many heavy-looking objects.  
Wasting no time, I pick up a large metal sphere, test its weight, then swing it over  
my head and send it crashing into a stack of cubes that might or might not be for this  
station. I do this a few times, making sure to stretch in between so that I won't pull any  
muscles. I don't seem to have gotten anyone's attention, but that's okay, because I'm not  
really the best at talking to people. I would hate to impress someone, and then seem  
totally rude when I couldn't keep up a decent conversation. So, ignoring everyone  
around me, I return to heavier and heavier spheres, trying to think of an intelligent way  
to use this skill of mine in the arena.


	36. Training Center Day 1: Reggie Cawthorne

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games even if we wish we do.**

**Reggie Cawthorne's POV**

Brooke seems to have made friends already. She stands around the spear-  
throwing station with the girl from 6 and the boy from 7. I don't care; I'll find better  
allies. The girl from 7 seems pretty promising. She has great aim and hits the dummy in  
the heart every time with a dagger. Making a decision, I saunter over to her. Besides,  
she's pretty, I add in my mind before leaning on the wall behind her head.

"Hey, there," I say, giving Rhymer a dazzling smile.

"Oh! Hi, I didn't see you there," she says, emitting a small, nervous chuckle.

"So, how's your aim?" I ask, nodding at the spear clutched in her hand.

"Pretty good," she says, letting the spear fly towards the target. It lands right in  
the center, causing chills to run down my back. Definitely need this girl as an ally, I  
think.

"So, what do you say about being allies?" I ask. Her head snaps around, sending  
her blonde hair flying every which way.

"How's your aim?" she asks, leaning in close to my face.

"Pretty good, wanna see?" I ask, reaching for the spear in her hands. She nods  
and releases her grip on it. Quickly she picks another one up, pressing it in to the palm  
of her hand. I raise my eyebrow at her actions, but don't bother to ask. I release the  
spear, watching it fly through the air and land evenly next to hers.

"Alright, I'm in," she says, grinning at me.

"Which station do you want to go to, ally?" I ask.

"Let's go to camouflage," she says, pointing towards the empty station. Grinning,  
I follow her eagerly.


	37. Training Center Day 2: Brooke Reyes

**Disclaimer: We do not own the Hunger Games :(**

**Brooke's POV**  
In terms of difficulty and intimidation, the second day at the Training Center is  
absolutely easier. The first day was awkward because our mentor gave us next to no  
advice, and while Reggie's father might drink with mine on occasion, we haven't exactly  
hit it off. He's a nice enough guy, I guess, but he's far too much of a flirt, not to mention  
that I'm sure he thinks he has a far better chance in the games than I do. While that's  
most likely true, that kind of logic doesn't bode very well with me. My entire life depends  
on survival, and I like to think I'm pretty good at it.  
Now, though, I have two good allies. Tasi and Alyssa. Rather than spending the  
day awkwardly hiding at the shelter, knot-tying, and plant stations, I feel like I can come  
out and show some skill. But when I reach the table where we were all supposed to meet,  
I only see Tasi. It's not like he's exactly hard to miss, especially since he's about 150  
pounds heavier than I am.  
"Where's Alyssa?" I ask, feeling no need to beat around the bush, craning my  
neck to look Tasi in the eye.  
"She wanted to do some archery training on her own today," he says in his deep,  
rumbling voice. "Is there anything you want to do? Any great skills you'd like to show?"  
"Well, I'm pretty good with throwing knives, but I'd like to save that for my  
private session," I explain. "I'm a fast runner, though."  
"Okay," Tasi says. "Can I watch you run?"  
"Sure," I reply, flattered that he'd want to. I squat down, quickly stretch out my  
hamstrings, then make my way to a vast expanse of empty space. Immediately, I take  
off, feeling my usual adrenaline rush as I sprint. I don't bother to watch the world speed  
by, just concentrate on running as fast as I can make my short legs go.  
After I reach the end of the empty area, I notice how tired I am, so I stand there  
and pant while Tasi comes over to me.  
"Wow," he chuckles. "That was impressive. How'd you learn to do that?"  
Suddenly, my inner defense mechanism kicks in. Back at home, if I told anyone of  
my father's abuse, they would either tell me to suck it up or they would confront him,  
and then I'd only get beaten worse. But I think I can trust this boy, so I say,  
"Let's just say my father's a pretty angry drunk." I pause to brush up my hair,  
exposing my still bandaged-and-disgusting scar on my forehead while Tasi gapes. "One  
learns to get out of the way. And fast."


	38. Training Center Day 2: Platinum Fowley

**Disclaimer: We do not own the Hunger Games**

**Platinum's POV**  
I'll admit it, I'll admit it. The training center is pretty big, and impressive, and  
there are a large amount of shiny surfaces. Yeah. But nothing could really prepare me  
for the sight, every day, of these sweet people I came here with, training to kill each  
other. It scares me really badly, 'cuz I'll, like, see that boy from District 5 building mega-  
freaky weapons out of a couple of branches, or I'll see that girl from 7 stabbing those  
poor dummies with spears, and I'll just think about, what if they did that to me? I don't  
want to die. I don't want to be stabbed or drowned or bludgeoned, so why should they be  
learning how to? Some people aren't very nice...  
When I reach the long wooden table where the Careers are eating lunch, I make a  
point to delicately sit down right next to Kern. He smiles at me, his beautiful blue eyes  
twinkling.  
"Hi, Platinum," he says gently.  
"Hey," I flirt, twirling my hair around my finger.  
"Platinum!" Aiden says, urgent. "Shiny!"  
"Where?" I demand, whipping my head around wildly. When I turn back to the  
table, I see Aiden and Rylan practically falling over each other, they're laughing so hard.  
"What?" I ask.  
"Never mind them, Platinum," Kern mutters, shooting a stern glare at Aiden, who  
imitates him mockingly.  
When everyone else goes off to get more food, I interlace my fingers with Kern's  
and say,  
"Thanks for stopping them from being mean to me."  
"Any time, Platinum," he sighs. "Pretty necklace."  
Suddenly, I remember my district token. My choker from my current boyfriends  
back in 1. A shiny silver chain with four flat circles on it, each with a different name.  
Jayre, Maximus, Starr, and Glint. They all came to visit me before I left for the Capitol,  
and gave me the necklace to remember them by.  
"Oh, yeah, that..." I giggle nervously.  
"What are these names on it?" Kern asks.  
"Um... uh, my boyfriends," I choke out, realizing how stupid I am.  
"Boyfriends? As in plural? And you've been flirting with me this whole time?" he  
asks, sounding disgusted.  
"Well, that makes it sound bad!" I screech. "Look, I thought I had a chance to  
come home, but now I know there's none! I never really liked any of them anyway, they  
just kept asking me out, and you were really cute, not to mention that you're nice! You're  
sweet when they make fun of me! I'm really pretty, but you're, like, smart! Just please be  
my friend. I promise, I won't try to cheat on my boyfriends anymore!"  
Kern doesn't even question this, just pulls me into his arms and lets me cry. He's  
a good friend.


	39. Training Center Day 2: Tasi Merkava

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games  
**

**Tasi's POV**  
I have to say, I'm pretty impressed by my new ally. She's so tiny, I know someone  
could easily snap her like a twig, but she sure can run. Plus, I know that she's tough,  
even if she'll have some trouble trusting me. I don't even want to know what she's lived  
through to get all those scars and bruises on that small little body.  
I'm figuring it's my turn, when she asks,  
"So, what skill sets do you have?"  
I like her voice. It's high, but not too high, strong, but not loud, with a bit of  
huskiness and a slight drawl to it on some syllables.  
"At home, back in my district," I start. "I work for a lumber boss who pretty much  
adopted me. I help him cut down the trees, so I'm good with an axe. I don't think I could  
ever kill anyone with it, though. I can't kill anyone at all. I hate to see creatures suffer."  
"I feel the same way," Brooke mutters, sounding almost fragile. "How I'll survive  
in the games is beyond me."  
"We'll have each other, and Alyssa," I say, trying to reassure her. "We'll be just  
fine."  
"I certainly hope so," she says, all of the normal strength back in her voice. "Now,  
let's see what you can do with that axe."  
We walk over to a station in the corner with a row of axes mounted on a stand, as  
well as some potted trees, cut off about six feet off the ground, ranging in thickness from  
the width of Brooke's pinky finger, to at least several feet. I roll my neck around, crack  
my knuckles, and grab the second-biggest axe. It's a good thing these trees aren't tall  
anymore. I wonder what would happen if a huge tree went smashing down on the  
training center... That would be bad. Very bad. I take a swing at the thickest trunk,  
preparing to make firewood like we'll need in the arena.


	40. Training Center Day 2: Aylau Breelin

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games. :-(**

**Aylau Breelin's POV**

I stand at the plant identification station, burying my nose in the berries. I like smelling them, knowing which ones which could actually kill me. I don't mind too much that I got picked for the games, because I was already going to die. Liver disease is horrible, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I already think I'm dead. I start screaming and then when my mother comes into the room, I get confused. _Why is she dead too? _I ask myself. She eventually calms me down, telling me that I am not dead. During the night is the only time I can actually talk to a levelheaded version of my mother. During the day she, I'm sure she is her usual self.

I wish I could find an ally, but no one would want to ally themselves with "liver boy." I know I'm not supposed to come out of this arena alive, to die just a couple months later from liver failure. I should just let someone else go home to their family. I would rather die heroically, than be that boy that died of liver failure. I wish I didn't have to die, but it has to be either one way or the other, right?


	41. Training Center Day 2: Rhymer Wellwood

**Rhymer Wellwood's POV**

I let the spear fly and turn on my heel, not even bothering to see it land in the bullseye. I can't help glancing at the careers. They're watching me, I know they are. I take a step forward, grab the cold surface of a spear, and lift it up into the air. Again, I throw the it, again it lands in the target.

"How would you like to be in?" the girl from two asks me. She stands beside me. I was too busy showing off, so I didn't notice her sneak over to me. "We've decided that we want you in, what do you say?" she asks, as if she wasn't the one who made the decision. I can feel my hands begin to tremble nervously and I second-naturedly pick up a dagger lying on the table by my side. I run my hand up and down the hilt, trying to get my heart rate back to normal.

"I'm in!" I say, flashing her a smile. Her mouth twitches up as she waves me over to the career group spread out by the hand to hand combat station.


	42. Training Center Day 2: Gisa Roth

**Disclaimer: We do not own THG, even if we want 2**

**Gisa Roth's POV  
**

"So I really tried to get the ball in the basket, but my older sister Lindsay kept getting in the way." Marissa trails off, causing me to snap out of my trance.

"Gisa were you even listening?" Marissa asks me, her blue eyes dancing with laughter.

"Of course, you were talking about Lindsay," I say. Marissa laughs at the mention of her sister and gives me a small smile.

"Since we are allies, you need to get used to my ranting!" She says giggling.

"Oh, I'm already used to it!" I say causing her to slap my arm lightly.

I can't help remembering how I stomped up to her after watching her for awhile and straight out asking her if she wanted to be my ally. She seemed smart and nice, just like someone I would be friends with.

I take out the small journal my brother gave me and turn to the first page.

_Mommy's head is tipped back in laughter, she has Gisa in her lap, Gisa's wide blue eyes are laughing as she stuffs a thin slice of bread in her mouth. My daddy sits at the head of the table, watching as I, the scene that unfolds around us. See I have a photogenic memory, I can take pictures and remember them. This is the picture I take today, a happy family surrounded by comfortable things, things that make them happy._

I look up and can feel tears stinging my eyes. To think that I will never, ever be able to hold my little brother in my arms again, settles in and I can feel tears rolling down my cheeks. I excuse myself to the restroom and glance at myself in the mirror. My blue eyes are swollen from crying and my black hair tousled from training.

_This is not who I want to be._


	43. Training Center Day 3: Daisy Moustache

**Disclaimer: We do not own THG**

**Daisy's Moustache's POV**

The training center is a little scary to me, because it just reminds me of how we're  
all going to be killed soon. At least, twenty-three of us. And chances are, I won't win. But  
I'm absolutely going to try, because I know if my brother's last conversation with me is  
about eating that yummy cake he loves so much, he'll never eat it again. I don't want  
him to feel bad if I die, so I'll do whatever I can to win.  
The first day here, I had no idea what to do (our mentor was completely useless),  
so I found this huge, industrial-size trampoline, and spent the day jumping and doing  
flips on it. I'm not sure what skills it was actually supposed to build, but hey, it was  
super fun. Our mentor got kinda mad at me for wasting a whole day, though, so he  
suggested I work on honing a skill I already have. I figured besides being in high-level  
math, the only skill that I have is punching boys, and that could come in handy. I'm a  
little shorter than average, and I don't have very much muscle, but my aim is spot on.  
So yesterday and today, I've spent every minute with one of the trainers, a huge,  
hulking woman named Khrista, who is actually really nice. She says that not many  
tributes frequent her station (Hand-to-Hand Combat), because they all want to grab  
weapons instead. All of her attention is focused on me, because I'm her only student.  
Khrista helps me develop my arm strength, and apply that to punching the human-  
analogue punching bags. I never thought something I taught myself when the boys at my  
school got on my nerves would ever be any use, but I really do think it's going to pay off.


	44. Training Center Day 3: Kern Rankline

**Hey people! Sorry it's been a while since we've updated, but we're both back**  
**at school, and connorxrisa (me) has been so busy with her various**  
**extracurriculars that all she's wanted to do is sit on her butt and watch**  
**Doctor Who. Much love to you all!**

**Disclaimer: As much as we wish one book trilogy had made us rich for life,**  
**that is Suzanne Collins' good fortune, not ours.**

**Kern's POV**

Well, it's my last day at the training center. This time has gone really fast, and I  
still feel like I have a lot left to do. But we only have 72 hours, and evaluations are  
coming up soon, so I should probably do what I can, while I can. After all, I'm still trying  
to win. There are other people that definitely deserve it, but that doesn't mean I'm going  
to forfeit or something.  
The last few days have pretty much been full of heavy-duty weapon and combat  
training with the other careers. Aiden's one to watch out for, as she's pretty deadly in  
every respect. Rylan's a pretty hardcore guy, and he's definitely good with the weapons.  
Even Platinum, bless her, is a fast runner. I've got some stiff competition. Speaking of  
Platinum, I'm still not sure what to think of her anymore. She herself told me what a  
player she is, but she seems really innocent at heart. But in the end, everyone is  
forgivable, and while she secretly still seems a little moony over me, I'm fine with being  
friends.  
Well, since it's our last day in the Capitol, I'd like to do something I've wanted to  
for a while. Time to practice my tree-climbing. I head over to a station full of fake trees,  
take a flying leap, and wrap my arms around a lower branch, using my upper body  
strength to pull myself up. These faux trees are really realistic, so it's easy to use the  
"bark" as traction to climb higher and higher. After pulling myself up to the training  
center ceiling, I squat on the highest branch and look around me. The other tributes just  
look like ants from up here. I can't see what most of them are doing, but I notice a  
Platinum-shaped ant staring up at me from the base of the tree, hopping up and down  
and excitedly waving. I give her a thumbs up and sigh.


	45. Training Center Day 3: Cache Lam

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games**

**Cache's POV**

Today, I'm wasting no time. Today, I'll figure out my plans. Today, I'll finalize my  
ideas, and be absolutely positive that I can make them work. I stride into the training  
center from the elevator, and, leaving Marissa to whatever it is she's doing. It's not my  
business, so I'm not going to bother with it.  
I jog slightly to the only station where I've spent any time these couple of days:  
Engineering. Apparently it's one of the least-frequented of the many stations here,  
because why would anyone possibly want to design complicated machinery when they  
could just bash someone's head with a rock? Typical members of society. Intellect has no  
value anymore, losing out instead to brutality. But what if one were to combine the two,  
making a machine with superb brains behind it, but with the killing power to ensure my  
victory? My whole family is dead. I have nothing to lose anymore.  
I return to my blueprints, closely examining the angles and intricacies of my  
design. If I were to just burn this into my memory, then attempt to recreate it in the  
arena, it might just work, provided I could find wood with the correct pliability... well,  
that's a risk I'll just have to take. My latest sketch looks spot-on. All of my hard work has  
finally paid off, and once I'm in the arena with this machine, I will be unstoppable...


	46. Training Center Day 3: Liova Hallp

**Hey gu****ys! Hope you like it :D**

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games, even if we wish we did.**

**Liova's POV**

My eyes flutter open, and for a second I'm confused. Where am I? I ask myself.  
Then I remember the events of the last couple days, and I close my eyes, wanting to sink  
back into oblivion. I push up into a sitting position, ignoring the throbbing in my head.  
Slipping out of bed, I quickly trot into the bathroom and prepare myself for the day to  
come.  
Once I'm done with my morning routine, I slump down in one of the dining room  
chairs and stuff cereal into my mouth, trying to calm my growling stomach.  
"Can you eat any faster?" Mellent asks. I quickly glance down at my bowl and see  
it's empty.  
"Shut up!" I yell, not wanting to get my feelings hurt today. Mellent raises his  
arms in mock surrender and lets out a small chuckle. I can feel heat rushing to my face  
as I push my chair back from the table, digging my heels into the wooden floor. Trying to  
calm my anger, I count to ten.  
_1_  
_2_  
_3_  
_4_  
_5_  
_6_  
_7_  
_8_  
_9_  
_10_  
When that doesn't work, I bang my fist on the table, and narrow my gaze at  
Mellent. The commotion causes his orange juice to tip over and spill onto his lap, but he  
doesn't seem to mind. Instead, his eyes are trained on me, not mad but amused. Anger  
boils in my blood and I turn away from the table, tossing my full glass of hot chocolate  
behind me, in his direction. I can hear a slight splashing noise and then a groan as I  
round the corner towards the elevator.  
Once I'm in the training center, I bound over to the obstacle course, and easily  
maneuver my way through it. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mellent enter the  
training center, with a fresh pair of pants on. I smirk and wave playfully at him.  
Confusion crosses his face, then a quick smile.


	47. Training Center Day 3: Adventi Sirtsele

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games.**

**Adventi's POV**

I plop my lunch tray down beside Rolocot and sink into the bluish plastic  
chair. Rolocot smiles at me before grabbing my carton of milk. He opens it and  
begins to chug it down.  
"Rolocot!" I shriek, grabbing the carton from his greedy hands. I slap him  
lightly causing milk to squirt out of his nose.  
"Jeez, Adventi, you need to be more respectful," he says, making me  
laugh.  
"Uh huh," I say. "I'm the one that needs to be respectful?" I ask. Rolocot  
seems to be lost for words because all he does is shove a spoonful of pasta in  
his mouth. I grin, flashing my teeth at him. He smiles back.  
"So after lunch, you go to berries, and I go to combat," I say. We are trying  
to go to each station so at least as a pair we can make it through the Hunger  
Games.  
"Sounds good, ally," he says giving me a shy smile. I take his apple and  
bite into it, letting the juice flow into my mouth.  
"Yum…." I breathe, taking yet another bite.  
"So the careers look tough this year, don't they?" Rolocot asks, looking  
over at the careers sitting one table over.  
"Sure…" I say, looking at Platinum, who appears to be trying to eat cereal  
with a fork.


	48. Training Cente Day 3: Alyssa Samrua

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games.**

**Alyssa's POV**

I let the arrow fly and smile once it lands in the bull's eye.  
"Nice!" Brooke shouts, trying to get her own arrow into the target. It barely  
misses and I grin.  
"At least you can throw knifes, supposedly," I say, giving her a smile. Tasi  
appears beside Brooke and my heart begins to pound harder. I'm afraid he can  
hear it so I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and return to my practice.  
"How are you doing, 'Lyssa?" Tasi asks me in his sweet, kind manner. I  
gulp.  
"Good, just practicing." I say, letting the arrow fly yet again. It misses the  
bull's eye by far and Tasi gives me a questioning look. I shrug. "I guess I've been  
practicing too hard." Tasi laughs and I smile, thinking about how easy it is to be  
friends with him.  
"Brooke! Lyssa and I are going to go over to the camouflage station. I need  
some help with it!" he says, calling over his shoulder to Brooke. I love his  
nickname for me and it makes my heart flutter. I don't know what's happening  
but I think I like Tasi. We congregate around the red berries and I begin to  
colorfully paint on my arm. Tasi mirrors my actions but uses blue instead of red.  
"So, are you excited about going home?" I ask Tasi. As soon as I say the  
words I gasp.  
"How do you know I'm the one that's going to win?" he asks me, his brown-  
green eyes baring into mine.  
"I…I….don't…I….I…J….ust though," I say.  
"Though what, Alyssa?" Tasi asks. I don't know if it's amusement in his  
voice or just annyoyance. Most likely the latter.  
"Never mind…" I mumble. Great, I messed it all up. I think.


	49. Evaluation Scores

**\Hey guys! Interviews :D We have decided to skip evaluations in order to get to the games faster, hope that's okay. Here is the announcement of the training center scores.**

**Cascadio Hertwarm's POV**  
The lights from the camera blind me as I take my place at my table. I rub my eyes with one hand, trying to make myself sighted again.

"Cascadio, we're on in five," the director says, causing me to jolt back in mychair. I nod and skim through the tributes' names and scores on the clipboard in  
front of me. People have such weird names these days, like Liova or Alyssa…I mean, come on, can't you think of something better? Like Cascadio... The  
director's voice pulls me out of my trance, and I am forced to face the camera. "5, 4, 3," the director says, counting down on his fingers. I think of all the  
tributes, eager faces pressed against the screens. Yikes, I'm glad I'm not them. "2, action!" he screams.

"Welcome, citizens of Panem. Who's ready to hear our wonderful tribute's evaluation scores? I sure am!" "Okay, so first off, we have Miss Platinum Fowley with a disappointing career score of 4!" I shout. I can just imagine the pretty little girl's face etched into a pout. I can't help but laugh, she should have tried harder. I look over the next name. Pretty good score, I think. "Next, we have Mr. Kern Rankline with a fine score of 9!" I yell into the camera, flashing it my signature smile. The next score on the list makes my eyes pop. Even for a career, it's an amazing score. "Miss Aiden Motivia with a fantastic score of 11! Her district partner at her  
heels, Mr. Patrick Macdougall with a beautiful curvy 8!" The names of the next pair make my eyes tear up. They looked so sweet on  
camera together. "Miss Adventurous Sirtsele with a 7 and her district partner, Rolocot Humphrey, with a matching score of 7." By now my mouth is getting dry, so I reach forward for the water bottle sitting at arm's length from me. My hand wraps around the plastic and I bring it  
to my lips, taking a small sip. "Miss Ambel Silver paired with a bright and shiny 9, ooh, Platinum Fowley would love that," I say, trying to make people laugh. "Rylan Harris with an only slightly less stellar score of 8." I clear my throat and begin again. "Marissa Wesley with an easy 6, uh oh, her district partner doesn't look so good, a score of 3 for Cache Lam!" I can just see his little face fall, but I ignore the images swirling in my head. "Miss Alyssa Samrua, with a decent score of 7, then, wait! Why are all the girls getting better scores then the boys? Is that supposed to mean something? Who knows. Oh well, Aylau Breelin with the score of, ta-da, 2."

"Whoa! It's always amazing to see someone from an outer district get a fabulous score. Miss Rhymer Wellwood with the two digit number 10! Not just  
one great score from an outer-lying district but District 7 might finally have a winner, people! Tasi Merkava with a big 9!" "Miss Brooke Reyes with an average score of 7! Mr. Reggie Cawthorne with a big fat 5, not so good…" "Also with a 5, both contestants from District 9, Miss Kat Laderman and Mr. Runnet Greene!" "Not much better but still better, Miss Gisa Roth with a 6!" I rub my eyes, thinking I can't see the paper. But, but that never happens, I think. "Mr. Justen Numbskull with a skinny 1…" I trail off. "On a not much brighter note, Miss Liova Hallp with a 4. Such an interesting name…" "Anyway, Mr. Mellent Kramer with a 6, Miss Daisy Moustache with a 3 and last but not least, Mr. Alex Donavon with an 8! Congratulations tributes, I can't wait for the interviews!"


	50. District 1 Interviews

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games**

**Platinum's POV**

I'm sitting backstage with Kern and the other tributes, waiting for the interviews to start. The host is taking for-freaking-EVER, so I think the others got bored a while ago. But I'm still admiring my dress, so it's not like I am. It's so... shiny. Apparently, my stylists were inspired by my name, so they designed me a dress made entirely out of the most fluid, shimmering fabric I've ever seen in my life. "Platinum, just like you!" they had said. It's pretty showy, between that it's low, short, and tight, but it's not like I'm not used to that. I hear the crowd start applauding, and then Kern gently nudges  
me.

"I said, the gorgeous girl from District 1, Platinum Fowley!" I hear Cascadio Hertwarm, the host, announce with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Oh!" I exclaim, looking up from my dress and popping out of my seat. I stride in my 5-inch heels onto the stage, smiling dazzlingly and waving to the audience. Huge versions of my face, looking really tough, decorate the screens on the sides of the stage. I sit in a large, squishy chair, and look expectantly up at Cascadio.

"Hello, beautiful," he says in his deep, famous voice.

"Hey," I sing-song, batting my eyelashes.

"So, Platinum," he begins. "You may not have gotten a very high score in training, but I hear you're still very sure of your chances in the games. Is that true?"

"Yes, it is," I say, brushing a strand of soft, dark hair out of my face. "I am really sure of my chances of winning in the arena. After all, I'm good at... um... everything, and I'm pretty. So, what more could a girl want to be in the games?" Everyone in the audience laughs, but I don't know why. Was that funny?

**Kern's POV**

A little while after Platinum's "too shiny to notice that I'm about to be on national TV" incident, she skips back, and I give her a high-five. She smiles widely at me, and I realize that she does look absolutely beautiful tonight. Platinum may be as dumb as a weevil, but she's a sweet little thing. I'm definitely going to miss her. Listening carefully, I hear,

"And now, the handsome young stud from 1, Kern Rankline!" I walk out, trying to look strong but friendly. My whole strategy's figured out in my head, so I need to play this just right to ensure maximum sponsorship. I sit in the chair beside Cascadio's, and cross my left foot over my knee."Well, hello, Kern!" he exclaims. "How are you?"

"I'm pretty good," I say, smiling for the cameras. "And yourself?"

"I'm just fine, thank you. So, Kern, you look like a strong guy. Did that have anything to do with what you did in your evaluations?"

"Not allowed to say, am I?" I chuckle. "I've got wicked skills, that's all I can say." The crowd gets a kick out of this.

"Oh, and I'm just dying to ask you something," Cascadio says over-dramatically.

"Are you and Miss Fowley- you know...?" he stage-whispers.

"No," I say, knowing that this situation requires absolute caution. For my own sake and Platinum's. "We're just friends. Good friends. We take care of each other," I finish, knowing that the last part is only half true.

"Well, that's sweet anyways, isn't it, ladies and gentlemen?" Cascadio asks. I nod.


	51. District 2 Interviews

**Hey guys! Here are District 2's interviews! Hope you guys like it :D**

Aiden Motivia's POV

"Please welcome Miss Aiden Motivia to the stage!" Cascadio yells. I emerge from the curtains and shake Cascadio's hand. Once I'm sitting in my seat, he turns to me.

"So, Aiden. How does it feel to have gotten the highest score in evaluations?" Cascadio asks. I make myself giggle. To me it sounds fake, but to the Capitol it must not, because they begin to laugh along.

"Well, it feels great, it makes me feel more confident about coming home!" I squeal. My mentor practically created a new me, the kind that squeals and giggles and enjoys the color pink.

"Well that's good, but pardon my curiousity, do you mean you aren't confident about winning?" he asks me. I gulp, then cover it up with a nervous laugh. _What's wrong with you Aiden? You're never this nervous. _I mentally kick myself.

"I _am_ confident, that's why I volunteered!" I say, smoothing down my strapless, black dress. I fold my hands in my lap and can't help noticing Cascadio glancing curiously at my missing finger.

"I have another question!" he says, raising a finger into the air. I nod, eagerly wanting this to be over. "What happened to your finger?" he asks glancing at my mangled hand. I sigh.

"There's this girl that I always used to fight with back home, her name is Rit and we hated each other. When we were eleven, we got into a fight that involved a sword and she sliced off both of my fingers."

"Did you get her real good?" he asks.

"No.." I mumble. Cascadio looks disappointed so I add something. "But since then, I trained and trained and she never has beaten me again," I say. I reach up and pull the elastic around my curly side ponytail tighter. _RIIIIIING! _goes the timer.

"Time's up!" Cascadio yells, ushering me off the stage.

Patrick Macdougall's POV

"Patrick Macdougall!" Cascadio shouts. I try to plaster a seductive smile on my face, but instead I make myself look like I am constipated. I quickly flash a smile at the audience and turn to Cascadio, who gives me a once over then motions for me to sit.

"Sooo…Patrick…..Tell us about your family back home," Cascadio says, his blue eyes flickering to my red hair. _Oh, no…._ my mind freezes and I squeeze my knee, bringing me back from reality. I can't say them about my little gang, the Capitol would inform peacekeepers to prosecute them. I clear my throat.

"I have my brothers Samuel, Justin, Nolan, and Danial, I'm an orphan and Samuel is over age so he takes care of us all." I wince at my lie and let out a nervous high-pitched laugh.


	52. District 3 Interviews

**Disclaimer: We do not own THG.  
**

**Adventi's POV**

I nervously pace backstage, fiddling with the buckle on my dress. It's long and purple and by all accounts thoroughly impractical, but I suppose it's pretty. Practicality isn't really the focus when you're being presented as a gorgeous young specimen to the whole of your country. That is, until you're actually in the games. I don't have very long to wait, though, because immediately after the boy from two who tried to befriend me returns from his interview, my name is called by the famously charming-yet-a-sleazeball host. I walk out onto the stage, give a quick apprehensive wave to the audience, and take  
a seat. Reaching out to shake my hand, Cascadio Hertwarm, previously mentioned host,begins with,

"So, Adventurous-"

"Call me Adventi."

"Oh, all right," he says, looking at me with some confusion. "Adventi then. So, Adventi, what do you think your strategy is going to be in the Hunger Games?"

"I don't know, Cascadio, I'm still not sure I'm ready," I giggle, mentally cursing my mentor for making me act like the bimbo every girl is supposed to act like. "This whole experience has happened so fast, and it's all really different and scary."

"I understand," he says in a low voice that I suppose is supposed to seem sympathetic. "I believe many of our tributes every year have some jitters." Ha. He  
doesn't realize how literally that applies to me. "I'm just wondering, what so you think your greatest strength will be in the days or weeks to come?"

"Well," I start, feeling a flush of pride. I can already feel my mentor smacking his forehead in disgust with me for telling the truth, but I don't want to appear completely inane. "I'm an inventor. Back home in my district, I fiddled around with machines all the time. I figured out the tricks to mechanical engineering, and I hope to be able to apply my knowledge in my time in the arena."

**Rolocot's POV**

My name is called by Cascadio Hertwarm following a rather rude wisecrack about Adventi being a "mad scientist." She returns from her interview looking traumatized by the spotlights, but slyly proud of herself for standing out against our mentor's so-called advice. I walk out, shake our host's hand, and take a seat, waiting for my grilling to begin.

"Hello, Rolocot Humphrey!" Cascadio bellows to me. "I've heard much about you. Tell me, because we don't have much time, and I want to get down to the good, juicy dirt about you." Well, that was certainly blunt. At least he's honest. "Why did you volunteer? After all, you're not from a career district, and from what I understand, volunteers are pretty rare."

"They tried to- um, they called my brother's name. My brother Myles. He's blind, you see, completely blind, and I knew he wouldn't stand a chance out there in combat.I've really close to my siblings, and I just couldn't stand the thought of losing him. Amary, Myles, Smitty, Kimber, I love you all!" I say, blowing a kiss to the nearest camera whilst Cascadio wipes away a fake tear from my touching story.


	53. District 4 Interviews

**Sorry it's been a while, we've both been super busy with all sorts of assorted stuff. Hope you like :D**  
**-iloverueforever and connorxrisa897**

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games. Sorry to disappoint.**

**Ambel's POV**

My short pink dress feels rough against my skin as I slip it over my head.

"AMBEL! Hurry, you're almost up!" one of my prep team members yells from the doorway.

"Coming!" I shriek, seizing the brown sash from the table and messily tying it around my small waist. "Why couldn't my stupid stylist not haven fallen down  
the stairs?" I whisper, aggravated, heading out the door.

I can hear Cascadio Hertwarm already calling my name. I quickly scamper up to the stage, trying to keep my eyes off the audience.

"Well, hello there, Ambel!" Cascadio says, shaking my hand warmly.

"Hello," I chirp and lean back in my seat. Cascadio's warm blue eyes land on mine and he begins his questions.

"So Ambel…..tell us about your family," Cascadio requests, causing me to jump in my seat. Tears burn in my eyes as the terror surges through my veins.

_Blood covers my body, my hands, and my dress. My gaze turns onto my parents' still, pale forms. I sink to my knees, head in hands sobbing. Sobs wrack my body as I slide onto my stomach in my mother's pile of blood, I can see my brother's small form try to pull me up from my fetal position, but I ignore him. I ignore everything. Pulling my knees to my chest, I tune out the world. A warm hand on my arm pulls me out of my memories._

"Ambel? Are you okay?" Cascadio asks me, he looks down upon me, worry clearly etched in his fake eyes.

I find myself on the floor, huddled under the coffee table.

"Yeah, what happened?" I ask, sinking back into my comfy red seat.

"You, um, fell? And started screaming," Cascadio says, rubbing my back comfortingly.

"I'm all right," I say, flashing the crowd a smile while rubbing my wrist, where a thin red mark has formed.

"Looks like time's up." Cascadio says as the timer rings. I swiftly lift myself  
from my seat and scramble backstage.

Once backstage, I collapse into Platinum's open arms.

"It's okay…" she whispers into my ear. She looks at me with a mixture of  
horror and confusion, but I appreciate her being there.

**Rylan Harris's POV**

"So Rylan, why did you volunteer?" Cascadio asks me. I give a small laugh  
and run a hand through my hair, flopped and spiked by my stylists.

"I want to be a victor, I want the fame and glory!" I say, flexing my muscles.

"Oh, well that sounds good, but you're not 18 yet." Cascadio says, looking  
at me.

"I couldn't wait," I say simply, digging my nails into the armrest of my seat.

Cascadio gives me a small smile before he continues to his next question.

"So an 8…." Cascadio says, smiling widely. I nod. "What about Platinum  
Fowley only securing a 4? Historically, the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 are in a pack.  
She could be a problem... What do you think, Rylan?" he asks smoothly. I gulp.  
What do I say? The truth? No, that'll get me in trouble later. I clear my throat.

"I think there is more to her then her score." I say. Cascadio raises his  
eyebrows, disappointed by my response.


	54. District 5 interviews

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games. We've already established** **this many a time.**

**Marissa's POV**

I sit backstage, kicking my feet in anticipation. That girl from District 3 has completely shown me up! She had to go out there with her whole "super-smart girl"  
angle, and totally ruined my whole tactic. I suppose I'll just have to look even smarter, then. I feel my anger starting to bubble over, and I know that I cannot do this now. I take some deep breaths, and force myself to stay calm for the sake of not appearing like a total lunatic in front of my whole country. Finally, that surfer boy from 4 returns from his interview, triumphantly gloating, and my name is called. I walk out, careful not to trip on my dress, and take my seat beside Cascadio Hertwarm, who, if it's possible, looks even more artificial in person than he does on TV.

"Marissa! How's your stay been in the Capitol so far?"

"Fine," I say, making sure to smile. "I miss my family a lot, but you do have an absolutely fascinating city here."

"Yes! Yes, we do," he replies, playing off of my responses however he can. "So, Marissa, what's your angle in the games? Any particular strengths?"

"I'm smart."

"And evidently modest, too," Cascadio chuckles, making the audience burst into  
hysterics.

"Well, it's true. I'm proud of my intelligence. I think that it'll take me very far in the games."

"At least she's honest!" Cascadio beams at me, and I look out across the audience.

**Cache's POV**

"Mr. Cache Lam!" Cascadio calls, sending me flying out of my chair.

"So Cache….." Cascadio begins once I'm settled in the interview chair. "We all want to know…why did you attack your poor escort?"

"I didn't think the odds would be that against my favor. I didn't and still don't believe that it was my name that was picked out of that bowl, and…." I say.

"And what?" Cascadio asks nervously.

"I have proof, and I want to know what you-" I say, pointing to Emilia, my escort in the audience, and by now I am yelling. "-Have against me," I say motioning to myself. Emilia clears her throat and stands up.

"Do want me to answer?" she asks referring to Cascadio. He nods his head eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the excitement. "Your parents. Well, they weren't exactly  
my friends, they owed me a lot of money, and then they had to go and die. I figured the only way to get my joy back was to have you die," she says, cackling.

"But I'm not going to die, I'm going to live a long and healthy life!" I shout at her.


	55. District 6 Interviews

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games.**

**Alyssa's POV**

I twirl in front of the mirror.

"Beautiful!" Aylau says, coming into the room. I shriek, stepping back, until my back touches the wall.

"Thanks," I say once I take a deep breath.

"Sorry, um, they said to come get you," he says, motioning to my prep team cowering by the door.

"It's fine," I say, giving him a bright smile and following him over to the door. Aylau places a hand on the small of my back, gently pushing me towards the  
stage.

"Shine like a star," he whispers in my ear, pushing me onto the stage after Cascadio screams my name. I whip around, my eyes landing on Tasi's. He gives  
me a thumbs up and a encouraging smile. My heart speeds up as I turn back around and walk over to Cascadio.

"Welcome, Alyssa," he says. I smooth down my strapless white dress. "Please take a seat," he says waving me over to my chair. I gently plop  
down in it and stare at him expectantly.

"Thank you," I giggle. He flashes me a toothy smile that I return.

"Don't think you have to answer," Cacadio says. "Okay, who am I kidding, of course you have to answer," he says, chuckling. I smile. "So, are you  
intimidated by any of the hunks here?"

"Yes, in fact I am." I giggle, making Cascadio chuckle.

"Who?"

"Oh…" I say, leaning forward in my seat. "That...is a secret." I say, throwing my hands over my mouth. The timer rings and I jump off of my chair. Cascadio  
grabs my hand.

"Alyssa Samrua, everybody!" he shrieks.

**Aylau's POV**

"Good job," I say, giving Alyssa a high five.

"Good luck," she clucks as she passes me. She gives me a gentle push and I approach Cascadio.  
Once I'm seated, Cascadio gets down to business.

"So Aylau. Why so yellow?" Cascadio asks, giving a slight chuckle. I take a deep breath.

"Well, I have liver disease," I say sniffling. Cascadio claps me on the back causing me to wince in pain.

"That sounds painful," he says. I nod.

"It is," I add.

"Well, on a happier note, what was your strategy for training?"

"It was to look strong."


	56. District 7 Interviews

**Hey guys! Sorry for the infrequent updates, life has been completely insane**  
**for both of us. Love you all :D Thanks for sticking with us!**

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games.**

**Rhymer's POV**  
My feet move soundlessly towards the door. My heart begins to race as I pace the open room, teal dress swishing around my ankles. I stumble forward, nervously steadying myself on the glass table. A small laugh rings around the room and I swivel around to face the sound.

"It's okay to be nervous," Tasi says, his eyes smiling at me.

"I'm not nervous," I say, taking a step towards the door. Tasi shrugs.

"It's your turn anyway. Go shine like a star," he says, giving me a small grin. I stumble onto the stage, eyes trained on to the shining light.

"Welcome, Rhymer Wellwood!" Cascadio yells.

Once I'm sitting in my chair, legs crossed and hands folded in my lap, he begins to interrogate me.

"So, what do you think about your chance of survival?" Cascadio asks, his voice interrupting my thoughts.

"Well, I'm sure I have a pretty good chance." I say. I grip my seat tightly, surprised by my answer.

**Tasi's POV**

When Rhymer comes waltzing back from her interview, I quickly tell myself to stay calm, because I'll be fine, and it's just some questions, Tasi. Nothing to worry about, Tasi. I raise myself to my full height, crack my neck, and walk onto the stage when I hear Cascadio Hertwarm call my name. My first thought is how bright all the lights are. How are we supposed to see with those blinding us? This is followed by how much noise there is, the crowd is all applauding and cheering and it's too much, it's just too much. Why are they cheering for me? I haven't even said anything yet. I tromp over to the soft-looking chair next to Cascadio's, and sit down, trying not to break the thing.

"So, Tasi," he asks after the first few rounds of questioning, his velvet voice in reality cold and slimy.

"You're a pretty tough guy, right? I mean, look at you."

"Yes," I begin cautiously. "If by tough you mean strong."

"Well, aren't you going to go in there, use that strong body of yours to take  
out the competition?" I feel the blood draining from my face, but luckily, with my dark skin, it won't be as noticeable to the audience. I will not let them pressure me into becoming a killer.

"No!" I say, my voice booming through the hall. "No. I will go into the  
games to keep me and my friends alive, but I'm not going to kill. They can make me sacrifice my body, but they can't make me into anything I'm not. No blood will be shed in my name."

Everyone looks shocked. Back at home, I know Haloti and Hope are proud of me.


	57. District 8 Interviews

**Hey everyone! Who's excited that we're almost to the games?! (We're getting there, we promise.) Love you all! **

**-iloverueforever and connorxrisa897**

**Disclaimer: Unless the two of us have magically morphed into Suzanne Collins, we're pretty sure we don't own_ The Hunger Games._**

**Brooke's POV**

Backstage before my interview, my prep team is not happy with me.

They've put me in this fitted dress, which they complain I'm too skinny to pull off, with this big poofy skirt, which they whine that I'm fidgeting with, and let's not even talk about the heels they tried to put me in. Apparently I'm going to look like a midget without them, but I couldn't make it a single step without falling on my face. I guess "Brooke Reyes, District 8 shortie" is better than "Brooke Reyes, falling wonder." Needless to say, back home, I wasn't exactly parading around in heels. I don't even like wearing shoes all that much.

Through all of their bellyaching about how my scars will look on camera and why my hair is so thin, they've actually managed to make me look pretty. Shocker. They've cut my hair a bit more stylishly, but kept my wispy bangs covering my forehead. Wouldn't want abuse making their tributes ugly.

When my name is called, I pull my shoulders back, hold my chin high, and swallow any hint of nerves I might have. I can't look weak, I can't look weak.

"Brooke!" Cascadio Hertwarm exclaims when I sit in the seat next to his. "How lovely you look! Are you enjoying the Capitol?"

Hmm. How do I answer this? Is anyone "enjoying" their time being treated as kings and queens before they get killed? I'm certainly not, but it's not like I can say that.

"It's nice," I say, my reply curt, intentionally vague and distrusting.

Reggie's POV

Directly following Brooke's interview, Cascadio calls my name.

"And now, out male tribute from District 8, Reggie Cawthorne!" I stride out from backstage, taking wide paces and waving and smiling to the audience. They all go wild at the sight of me. I can hear all the women screaming. Business as usual.

As I take a seat, our host asks,

"Reggie Cawthorne, how are you this evening?"

"I'm good, thanks. And you?" I respond, turning on the charm for the cameras.

"I'm just fine. So, Reggie, who all have you got cheering you on back in your District?"

"Well, my family, for starters," I begin. "My little brothers and sisters, Meesha, Pixie, Nathan, Tyler, and Iafella. And my parents."

"Gotta love those adorable younger siblings," Cascadio says, giving me a wide, fake smile. "Your parents. You love them a lot, right?"

I know exactly what he wants me to say. He wants me to tell him all about how wonderful my parents are so I can look like an angel for the country. It's not going down that way.

"I love my mother, that's certainly true," I tell him, but looking straight into the camera. "It's my father that's the problem."

"Oh, family teen drama?" he asks, giving an uneasy chuckle. "We've seen plenty of that here before."

"No," I say, preparing to tell the whole nation what I've never told anyone. "He abuses us. My mother and siblings and me. Every single day, he drinks and I've got to protect them. It's a pretty common thing in 8."

The stunned silence that falls over the crowd only lasts a few seconds before Cascadio can come up with another witty retort to keep everything moving.


	58. District 9 Interviews

**Hey guys, here are the District 9 interviews. As you know, this is a long process, but we hope you're enjoying it, so thanks for reading and reviewing, we love you all!**

**-iloverueforever and connorxrisa897**

**Disclaimer: If you haven't yet realized that The Hunger Games is not ours, please go have your head examined.**

**Kat's POV**

I hate this stupid makeup they put on me. It makes my face all wet and sticky. And I hate how they put me in a freaking dress, even though I told them I wanted to wear pants. My prep team is so annoying! They just keep trying to get me to be all "femininely fashion-oriented", as they say. Blech. Brains over beauty any day. What now.

After my stylist finally stops messing with the folds on my skirt, I hear my name called. I have to sprint away from my prep room to the stage, not caring that everyone's looking at me weirdly. The host is on his second call for me when I dash onto the stage and flop down in the cushy chair, panting.

"Kat Laderman? Oh, there you are."

"Hi," I say. The audience laughs. Apparently I'm funny now. Okay.

"So, Kat, tell me. How do you think a girl from an outerlying district like yours will be able to distinguish yourself in the games, especially as you received a, no offense, mediocre score in training?"

The fact that he brings up my 5 in training pisses me off, but I know that I have an opportunity here.

"I'm different," I say confidently. "The fact that I'm from an outerlying district means nothing, except maybe I wasn't always as privileged as people from, I don't know, 1 and 2. And just because my skills aren't impressive in training doesn't mean they can't keep me alive."

**Runnet's POV**

When Kat comes back from her interview, I try to give her a hug, because she did completely awesome, but she glares at me and shifts away. Oh well. Knowing my turn is approaching, I check my pink dress shirt and brown tie in the mirror, then head over towards the stage.

I shuffle onstage, right on cue, as I hear,

"...Runnet Greene!" I take my seat next to Cascadio Hertwarm and try to make myself comfortable.

After a few rounds of questioning, he gets right down to the good stuff.

"Runnet, my boy. Big strong lad like you. What do you think your chances are of winning the games?"

"I think I have a decent enough chance," I stammer, suddenly distracted by the extravagant costumes and hairstyles of the audience members. I adjust my glasses and keep talking. "I mean, I don't see any reason why I wouldn't. I'm pretty strong and pretty fast."

It is Cascadio's next remark that makes me start to worry.

"Well, lucky for the other tributes, there's more to the games than that."


	59. District 10 Interviews

**We can't wait to get to the games! :D**

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games.**

**Gisa's POV**

"So….Gisa, I was wondering…" Cascadio trills, his blue eyes baring into mine.

"Yes?" I ask nervously.

"Well, I was wondering about the tiny book you seem to carry around," Cascadio says. My hand flies instinctively towards my pouch, where my book secretly lies.

"Well, it was my brother's, he gave it to me," I say, nervously glancing at the camera.

"Oh. What is his name?" Cascadio asks, seeming genuinely interested.

"Isaac," I say quietly.

"Were you fond of him?"

"Very," I say, tears threatening to fall.

"Would you read us a page?"

"Of course," I say. What else am I supposed to say? No? I might as well blow up in the arena, I think as I pull the journal out of the pouch. Flipping to the second page, I clear my throat.

"Gisa and Mommy are in the water, shrieking about the coldness of it against their bare legs. Daddy sits on the bank, face pale as usual. I sit close by, feet stretched out across a gray rock, hand planted on the grassy plain. A cry leaves Gisa's lips as she scampers out of the water, throwing her soaking body onto Daddy. He smiles, wrapping a dark green towel around her thin shoulders. This is the picture I take today, a father and daughter, having a good time, smiles planted on their happy faces."

"That was beautiful," Cascadio says, pretending to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye.

I barely notice that the timer rings, I barely notice that my feat carry me away from the stage, I barely notice slipping into bed that night, for I am still in a trance.

**Justen's POV**

All right, Justen. Time to shine. Get out there and strut your stuff. If you act cool, you are cool, if you act cool, you are cool.

I'm greeted with only a slight glare from Gisa when she floats back from her interview, which is disappointing. To be honest, I kind of like normally seeing her stare daggers at me whenever I'm in sight. It means I've got someone's attention when they do that. Bad press is better than no press. But no time to dwell on a girl like that. I've got a whole Panem-load of ladies to charm, to get under my arm- Hey, that rhymes! Need to write a rap about that someday. Maybe in your free time in the arena.

When I hear my name, I slide onto the stage and dance and twirl to my designated chair, only tripping a little bit on the smooth floor. Not that anyone would notice. Or care. Yeah, I'm just that awesome.

"Justen! How are you?" Cascadio Hertwarm says, repeating a similar speech to the one he uses for most of the tributes.

"I'm…. electric," I murmur. Not quite sure what it means, but hey, it sounds smart. "But the better question is: how are all my beautiful ladies out there?"

Not a single girl screeches. What's that about? Tough crowd, that must be it. Just a tough crowd playing hard-to-get. No biggie.

"So!" Cascadio continues, filling the silence. "Justen! How do you feel your chances are in the arena in the coming weeks?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I ask, smoothing back my solidly-sprayed hair. "I'm awesome. I'm on fire. I am gonna go in there, and I am gonna rock this Hunger Games! Ya hear that? ROCK this Hunger Games, baby! WHOO!"

Everyone's looking at me weirdly now, but I don't care. There'll be better crowds out there for me some day.


	60. District 11 Interviews

**Liova's POV**

"Liova….Please tell us about back home in District 11," Cascadio says. I clear my throat. _This is your time to shine Liova, make them feel sorry for you, _I tell myself.

"Well, back in District 11, people used to bully me all the time. Now I'm just used to it, the name-calling, the legs tripping me, the people smirking as I pass. I used to wish it would stop, I used to go home and cry for hours on end. That's why I'm going to win, to prove to all those people that I am over their meanness." I add a sniff to make my fake story, well…. more real.

"That's some pretty deep stuff, Liova," Cascadio says, patting me on the back. I nod, letting another sniff be heard by the crowd.

I glance backstage and can see Mellent standing by the curtain, shaking his head at me. I give him a playful smile and turn back to Cascadio. The timer rings and I gallop backstage. Mellent seizes my wrist.

"What was that?" he asks me, his fingers gripping my wrist hard. I wince.

"The truth," I say simply. I wrench my wrist free from his grasp and saunter over to my seat.

**Mellent's POV**

I roll my eyes at Liova, who saunters over to her seat massaging her wrist. Angrily, I make my way upstage to Cascadio.

"Hello there, Mellent!" Cascadio cheers, motioning for me to sit down. I obey and then turn my full attention to him.

"So, Mellent, are you nervous?" Cascadio asks.

"Who? Me? Of course not," I say, even though I can feel the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

"How do you like the Capitol so far?"

"Well, it's very different from District 11, everyone here is so much…much more..." I settle on the word "happy."

"Well that seems to reflect on poor sweet Liova's story."

"Yup... sure does," I say through clenched teeth.


	61. District 12 Interviews

**Hey everybody! This is our last chapter before the games, so get ready…. lots of blood and heartache in the coming update, but for right now, our final interviews! We love you all, please keep on reading and reviewing! -connorxrisa897 and iloverueforever**

**Disclaimer: Do you silly people STILL think we own The Hunger Games? *cricket, cricket* **

**Alex Donovan's POV**

"Alex, why did you volunteer, your from 12." Cascadio say.

"Yes, but um….my best friend was reaped, I decided to you know…..volunteer for him." I say.

"So your handsome, brave, loyal, and a true friend. What kind of person wouldn't want you?" Cascadio asks making me chuckle.

"That's a great question!" I say making the audience laugh. I swear I can hear people saying "I want him, I want him." I shake my head, focusing on Cascadio's next question.

"What are some of your strengths?"

"Well, I'm pretty handy with a knife, and my other strengths are a surprise." I say, winking at the audience. Cascadio laughs as the timer sounds. I hop up from my seat and trudge off the stage after wishing the audience a good night.

Plopping down next to Liova I sigh.

"Why?" I ask.

"Why what?" She snaps.

"Why did you lie?"

"Because."

"That's not a real answer."

"Then what is?"

"Touche." I say making her giggle.

Daisy's POV

As far as this evening has gone, things could have been easier. So basically, I tried to tell my stylists that I was wearing my mustache, but they said I would look stupid, so they ripped it off my face and told me to go prepare myself for my interview. Luckily, I snuck back in and took it, but then, when they saw me once again wearing it, they started screaming at me and eventually, when I started giving Alskadovia, my prep-team-person of unknown gender, the "evil thumbs of death", they had to call in my stylist to give me a "talk". Let's just say they're letting me wear the mustache.

After those drama queens from District 11 finish their interviews, I'm called in.

"And now, our final lady of the evening, the mysterious and most likely hilarious Daisy… Moustache?"

I see Cascadio Hertwarm mutter something, probably bad, under his breath and out of the way of the microphone after seeing my name on the prompter. I don't really care, though.

I walk out, glaring slightly at the huge crowd gathered to watch us. Those sick and twisted weirdos. I remember what my mentor said, though, and smile and wave, although not very convincingly.

"Daisy!" Cascadio yells. "How are you this evening?"

"I'm good," I say back, grinning, trying my hardest to be friendly.

"So, and I'm sure all of Panem wants to know, what are you really like? What's the story behind the girl with the mustache? And-" he drops his voice very low and whisper-y, "-is it real?"

"First of all," I reply, taking a deep breath. "No, it's not real. I got this particular one custom-made for me as a gift for my twelfth birthday, and I glue it on my face every morning. No natural facial hair on me! Secondly, I… I don't really know what the 'story behind me' is. I'm just a fairly normal girl. I go to school, I walk around town, I love my parents and my brother and my friends. That's it. I'm normal. Does that cover it?" I ask, nervous that I said the wrong thing.

"Yes, absolutely," Cascadio says slimily, this obviously not being the answer he wanted. "That covers it completely."


	62. Bloodbath

**Hey guys! It's the moment you've all been waiting for, drumroll please…..THE GAMES ARE HERE! **

**Okay, so there's going to be a lot of death and all in this chapter, just a warning. (Although, if you've read The Hunger Games, we can't see that being a problem.) We deeply apologize if we kill your tribute in the following chapters, as we love them, but they can't all win. Sorry! **

**One more thing: at the end of each chapter in the Games in which a tribute dies, the one of us that wrote for them the most will write a small eulogy for them in the form of a short letter. These are optional to read, but we recommend it. **

**Love you all! Keep on reading and reviewing! :D **

**-iloverueforever and connorxrisa897**

**Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games, even if we wish we do. Too bad!**

**Alyssa Samrua's POV**

I slip one arm in to the rough green jacket, sighing as it comes to rest across my shoulders. My heart beats fast against my chest, as I step into the glass tube that will pull me up into the unknown. _Please God, don't let me die….._

**Rolocot Humphrey's POV**

Suddenly, the floor of the tube I've been imprisoned in shoots upward, launching me into the arena. The sun hits my face when it stops moving, temporarily blinding me with the bright light. When I look around, I see the other tributes on their platforms, looking either confident or terrified, and the massive clock on the Cornucopia beginning its countdown as we take in our surroundings. To my horror, all I can observe of our environment is that we're all on some kind of flat plateau of rock-hard dirt, large in diameter, but not huge. I know that come a few seconds, this patch of earth is not anywhere I'll want to be. However, while I can't see what's on the other sides, I'm guessing it's a pretty far fall….

**Gisa Roth's POV**

The Cornucopia clock has just struck 51 seconds to go when I see movement from my left side. _Justen… _He begins dancing slightly on his platform, apparently unable to wait.

"I'm gonna ROCK this Hunger Games!" he screams, barely taking a step away before the land mines detonate. I can't force myself to look back, but I know the scene won't be pretty. After a short pause, I hear the first cannon of the Games.

**Runnet's POV**

"_5, 4, 3, 2, **1**_"

My feet begin to move before my mind. I find myself out farther then I thought I could have run. Stooping down, I grab the closest thing to me, a small knapsack. Clasping it tightly between my numb fingers, I turn to run, resulting in tripping over my own feet. Before I know it, that idiot girl from one stands right beside me, a deadly looking sword dangling from her fingers. I notice her gaze fixed on the golden cornucopia, her eyes wide, mouth gaping.

"Ooooooooh, _shiny_," is the last thing I hear as my eyes flit to the sword dropping from her unclenched fingers.

**Platinum Fowley's POV**

The Cornucopia's just so shiny, I can't seem to move my eyes off of it. I hear a faint sudden breath beside my feet, but don't think much of it. All I can concentrate on is the huge… shimmering… Cornucopia. I recognize Kern's scream for me to run off in the distance as swift footsteps approach me. Something is hurled through the air, and I feel the impact of a huge spear imbed itself in my chest. All I can feel is the blood, the pain, the knowledge that I will die, very shortly.

_But… but, shiny… _

**Rhymer Wellwood's POV**

Ignoring the girl from one's body fall to the ground with a dull thud, I shuffle forward, seizing the spear from her chest and freeing it. I take a second to wipe the drying blood from the tip of the spear and burst forward, eyes trained on a giant blue backpack several yards in front of me. The girl from four, black hair flying wildly around her face, starts shivering, she stumbles forward, hands covering her eyes. I grin, remembering Ambel's attacks, this must be one of them. I raise my spear up in the air, letting it fly towards the fragile girl, the spear lands evenly in her abdomen and I snicker.

**Ambel Silver's POV**

Tears stream down my face as I cry out in pain. I let myself sink into the ground, hands feeling the deep wound in my abdomen. Laying my head back and closing my eyes I think, _At least I'll die like my mother did._

**Marissa Wesley's POV**

Ignoring all the death surrounding me, I know I must face the problem at hand: how to escape this plateau. _There's got to be a way out of here, _I reassure myself. _The Gamemakers wouldn't have any fun if all of the non-Careers got killed right here and now. There must be some trick. _

I know that it can't be just to jump off, as the fall to the ground must be at least 150 feet, hardly survivable without any kind of apparatus, which would be nearly impossible to build, especially for most of these morons, and in the heat of the bloodbath. The sides are also straight down and slick-looking, not really climbable. _Unless… _

Ignoring my fear, I grip the edge of the plateau and let the rest of my body dangle off. Just as I suspected, there are some ever-so-slightly darker patches in the sides. Perfect. Taking a chance, I kick at one with my left foot and am rewarded when the soft dirt inside it crumbles, leaving a nice little hole. These patches seem to go all the way down, so I kick out another and begin my slow descent, wondering if anyone else will notice what I'm doing.

**Aiden Motivia's POV**

I had managed to retrieve a knife and now I scan my surroundings. A few people lay dead on the ground, darting forward towards Rylan, I can see him closing in on the girl with the moustache, and I barrel forward.

"Let me have her!" I shriek as I pass him, he salutes me and I chase Daisy towards the side of the cliff. "Nice moustache!" I snicker, as she whirls around, eyes flitting towards the cornucopia. "You scared?" I taunt, advancing on her. Her eyes land on mine, as I thrust my knife towards her skinny frame, a smile is frozen on my lips as she drops to the ground, her eyes glazing over.

I spin around, smiling as I catch site of Rylan embedding a fishhook into Reggie Cawthorne's neck. Reggie curls into a fetal position and I see his body grow frigid. I wave to Rylan.

**Aylau Breelin's POV**

Running away from the Careers and that scary blonde girl from 7, who seem to already be dominating the field, I skid to the edge of the plateau, eyeing the massive drop to a desolate, abandoned village scene below. I take a deep breath, evaluating the risks. Even if I were to win the games, which honestly, would be impossible, what do I have left? My family back home who don't even care about me, and if I'm lucky, a couple more painful months with my liver disease.

Figuring it's worth the risk, I hurl myself over the edge, falling quickly to the ground. I don't even feel the huge impact that ends my life.

**Tasi Merkava's POV**

Luckily, none of the Careers have approached me yet, probably intimidated, but I know that as the body count goes up and people begin their escape, they're going to have fewer and fewer targets, which means I'm not safe for much longer. Panicked, I look around for Alyssa and Brooke, and thankfully, they're both alive, huddled together, watching something on the wall of the plateau. They turn around and see me, and although they both have a few cuts and bruises, neither one looks deathly injured. I walk swiftly over to them, wondering what in the world they're looking at.

"It's Marissa," Brooke says. "She's figured out how to get off this thing. And we can all do it too."

Sure enough, the redheaded girl is already almost to the ground, using some sort of system where she kicks out soft places in the wall and uses them as footrests and handgrips. I grin at the girls, knowing that due to Marissa's cleverness, we'll be alive another day.

**And now, for the eulogies! **

**Justen Numbskull, **

**Even though I created you, I can't say that I'll miss you all that much. To be honest, you were really obnoxious, but very fun to write for. I just hope that wherever you may be in the land of deceased characters, the cows moo for your pathetic rapping, and your mother actually loves you. **

**-connorxrisa897 **

**To Runnet Greene,**

** You were never my favorite by a long shot, but I always did like you, even though I wasn't always the one that wrote for you (I just did it more often.) Also, I loved that you were always wearing pink, no matter where you were or what the situation was, that was kind of awesome. Lastly, I apologize completely for me and iloverueforever listening to Gangnam Style as we wrote your death. **

** -connorxrisa897 **

**My dearest Platinum Fowley,**

** I felt so terrible about killing you. So, so terrible. I seriously almost cried. Though I created you to hate you, making you a complete ditz and even giving you the last name of Fowley (Diana Fowley: arguably my least favorite X-Files character EVER), I grew to love you. You were so much fun to write, and I always looked forward to your chapters. I will wear shiny things in your honor for at least the next few weeks. Keep being awesome, girlfriend. **

** -connorxrisa897**

**Dear Ambel Silver, **

** I will miss you so very terribly. You were always one of my favorite people to write for. I felt so bad for you because of your parents and your flashbacks. I am so sorry that we are leaving your brother uncared for. I hope for the best life for him. Goodbye for now,**

** -iloverueforever**

**Dear Daisy Moustache,**

** I felt really bad about killing you, as you were submitted by a dear friend of both me and iloverueforever, and were a combination of two of our bestest buds. You were also one of my favorite characters because you were funny and awesome, and the mustache was, well, an interesting touch, at least. Also, I know norberta772 is going to murder me for killing you. (Sorry!) **

** -connorxrisa897**

**Reggie Cawthorne,**

** I can't think of much to say to you, except that I'm sorry we killed you. It kind of got on our nerves that you were essentially Taylor Lautner, but I promise we didn't hold that against you, at least not much. **

** -connorxrisa897**

**Dear Aylau Breelin, **

** I will miss you even though you were never my favorite. I felt bad for you because of your liver disease. I also liked you because of your meager age of 12. I wish that you could have had a better chance of survival. **

** -Iloverueforever**


End file.
